Fire in the Sky
by Bekki Beekeeper
Summary: When Jack goes AWOL, SG-1 must follow his interplanetary trail - but they can't do it without the help of some old enemies. Post-Season 10 team missionfic. SJ
1. Missing

**Title:** Fire in the Sky**  
Part: **1/10**  
Fandom:** Stargate: SG-1  
**Pairing: **Sam/Jack  
**Genre: **Adventure, romance  
**Season:** Post-season 10; after Continuum

**Summary: **When Jack goes AWOL, SG-1 must follow his interplanetary trail - but they can't do it without the help of some old enemies. Sequel to 'Smokescreen' and 'Smoke on the Water.'

_**A/N:** This story is third in a series of stories that depict separate, self-contained missions but contain continuing strands of character development. That means you can read any of them as stand-alone, but reading previous stories will give you deeper insight to where the characters are at. Check out the links under my profile._

**PART ONE**

As far as Sam Carter was concerned, Jack O'Neill's impromptu marriage proposal had been one of his finest moments.

It had been during their first trip to the cabin after Sam had returned from Atlantis. Regardless of their late arrival, they had gone out by the lake to cast their lines under the stars. They had talked, joking together at first, though things had become a little more serious after that. The topic had been a little more painful for him than for her; she had apologised, and tried to move the conversation on. He had cut her off in the middle of her sentence with two words.

_Marry me._

No ring, no flowers, no semi-prepared speech; she suspected from his tone of voice that it had been as much as a surprise from him as for her. But Sam loved that it had been so spontaneous, so genuine, so... _Jack_.

And it seemed that he hadn't given up on surprising her just yet.

"Jack," she said, gazing at him in disbelief. His face grinned at her from the screen on the wall; around her, the constant hum of the _Hammond_'s engines filled the room. "I thought we said..."

"No private communications when you're offworld?" Jack replied.

"Yes. If you're not contacting the ship on official business..."

"Ah, but I am," he told her, mischief in his eyes. "I'm just taking care of a little personal business at the same time. Good job you've got a secure communications feed to your quarters, huh?"

"Jack," she began, giving him a stern look. It was spoiled slightly by her lingering smile.

"Sam," he replied, calmly. "It's our _anniversary_."

He said it with such relish that she felt a thrill of joy go through her.

She reigned herself in, shaking her head in spite of herself. "It's not fair on the crew. I'm their commander – I can't expect them to go weeks without seeing their loved ones if I can't live up to it myself."

He looked at her with fond exasperation. "Perhaps I should rephrase that," he said. "This is our _first_ anniversary. Besides, I think you underestimate the amount your country – your planet – owes you. Speaking of owing you something... have you, uh, spoken to Marks lately?"

"Marks?" Sam looked confused for a moment; his face fell. Then she laughed. "Oh, the champagne. Yes, I discovered that last week."

Jack stared at her. "I told him it was a secret!" he exclaimed, scandalised. Sam grinned at him.

"You're forgetting about ship regulations," she answered. "No alcohol on board without my express permission. I almost had to discipline him when I caught him trying to smuggle it aboard. He didn't have a choice, Jack," she added, amused at his disappointed expression.

"But that's all he gave you, right?" Jack answered. "Just the champagne."

"Yes. Why?"

A mischievous look entered Jack's eyes, but his face remained otherwise passive. "No reason. So, Daniel came round this morning bearing home-baked cake, the latest _Simpsons_ box set and a crate of Guinness." He beamed at her. "Samantha, you know me too well."

Sam grinned back at him and answered, "I was going to ask Teal'c to pass it all along to you, but he insisted that he would have to deliver it with a traditional Jaffa love-song on my behalf."

"In which case," Jack replied, deliberately raising an eyebrow, "I'm grateful you gave it to Daniel instead. They both send their love, by the way. Mitchell and Vala too."

Sam smiled, though she felt a pang of loneliness at hearing their names. She told herself that it was silly to miss them: missions aboard the _Hammond_ weren't nearly as long-term as her year-long excursion in Atlantis. Yet it was still early days for her as ship commander, and she often found herself missing the support of her friends on both SG-1 and Atlantis. Most of all, though, she missed Jack.

Even so, she knew her absences were harder on him than on her. She was in the thick of it, always busy, always needed; he was left behind, knowing the danger she faced but powerless to protect her. He tried not to show how much it troubled him; but every time she caught a glimpse of the fear in his eyes, she wondered how much longer she would be able to put the safety of the galaxy ahead of the one man she loved so deeply.

She looked at his face, gazing at her from the screen, and longed to be next to him.

"So what was the official part of this message, sir?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light, desperate to move on from her melancholy thoughts. She could still think of him as her commanding officer sometimes, when she needed to; it made seeing him from light years away that little bit easier. It pained her to do so, but sometimes it was the only way to keep control.

"Well, _Carter_..." – he gave her a half-amused look – "...the nerds at Area 51 are desperate to get their hands on the mission data so far. Specifically, your tests with the Chimera optical protection whatsit..."

"Chimera Optics Projection System," she corrected, smiling. He grimaced.

"I knew that," he told her, and concluded: "The rest of us wouldn't mind a look at the numbers, either."

Sam smiled again, slipping easily into an explanation. "Well, the results do look promising. After making some adjustments to our latest long-range prototype, we've conducted a number of tests in which we've been able to successfully project a holographic image to the surface of a planet from low orbit. However, projection seems to have been attenuated in several cases; our data suggests that a strong planetary electromagnetic field may affect the quality of the projection."

A familiar look of incomprehension passed over Jack's face but he didn't ask for clarification, instead jumping to a more practical question: "Can we overcome that?"

"It shouldn't be a problem," Sam answered. "To be honest, that's not really the main issue."

Jack arched his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"So far we've been unsuccessful in our attempts to get the technology to work through electromagnetic shielding," she explained. "For the moment, that rules out any application of the Chimera system in most infiltration operations. On top of that, some instances of electromagnetic interference have been causing difficulties with the audio and visual signals received by the person whose image is being projected."

"Why?" Jack asked bluntly. "I thought this was Asgard technology. _They_ never had any problems popping up in strange places."

"That's what it's based on, yes sir. But the Chimera system itself is eighty-two percent Earth-built. It's being developed not only for immediate practical application but also with a view to produce something made completely from Earth materials. The more we try to incorporate Earth elements into alien designs, the more problems there are to solve. To be honest, sir, we still have no idea how the technology enables the person using it to see and hear the environment into which their image is being projected. It should be impossible."

"You'll figure it out," Jack told her confidently.

"Maybe," Sam replied. "I've got some good scientists on the Chimera team. I just wish I could spend more time on it myself, and even then I'm not sure..."

"Sam."

She trailed off, realising that she had been about to embark on a feverish list of all the problems they were facing with the Chimera device. She grimaced, but Jack was looking at her with a knowing expression.

"Sam, you're right to keep a little distance between you and the projects that go on under your command. Your priority has to lie with the execution of your orders – and more importantly, with your crew."

She nodded. "I know. It's just... wherever I am, I always feel I could be doing something more."

Jack gazed warmly at her. "You're already doing more than anyone has asked of you, Sam. You always have."

At that moment, the ship's alarm began to blare; a voice came through the intercom summoning Sam to the bridge, and then the whole ship shook. Sam stumbled but managed to keep her balance, dimly aware that Jack was calling her name.

"Jack–"

"I know," he answered, and added urgently: "I love you."

Before she could reply, another impact rocked the ship; the screen went dead. Without hesitation, she ran for the bridge.

* * *

The daylight shone bright and strong on Aurelis, but little of it touched O'Neill.

It had been eighteen hours since they had lost contact with the _Hammond_. At first he had tried to convince himself that it was just a technical problem; Sam would fix it. A few hours after that, he had told himself that the ship must have been engaged in a minor scuffle with an enemy vessel; sustained some damage to a few internal systems; just needed time to repair the damage and get communications back online.

He hadn't been able to hold onto those hopes for long. He simply knew the dangers too well.

He still projected his typical, wry self. He still filled awkward silences with ironic jokes and inappropriate comments, though perhaps his humour had been a little darker than usual. His cynicism – something that had been gradually easing since his engagement to Sam – seemed to have gained new depths since they had lost contact with her ship. And despite Jack's dry and careless manner, his insides felt as cold and hard as steel.

He had chosen his clothing and equipment very carefully for this mission: black fatigues instead of the standard green; a heavy combat vest full of emergency supplies. He had wanted to take more ordnance along, but the sergeant in charge of the SGC armoury had told him that he was only authorised to take a nine-millimetre and some extra clips. The pistol was currently strapped to his right thigh, and the bullets were stowed away in one of the multiple pockets of his vest.

He eyed the P90 of the airman in front of him. Now _that's_ what he should be carrying...

Jack heard the familiar sound of the Stargate shutting down behind him. The DHD was a few yards to his left, perched on the lip of the hill. In front of them, the land sloped down into a densely populated little valley. Tall buildings clustered around a narrow but fast-running river; livestock grazed on the hillsides around. It all looked so simple, Jack thought; yet he knew they harboured a renewable source of energy that could be invaluable to the sustainability of the human population on Earth.

He knew what he was risking.

"Thinking of old times, sir?" his escort, the newest member of SG-17, asked. He had apparently misinterpreted Jack's silence for a reminiscent pause. O'Neill threw him a questioning look; he added uncertainly: "I heard you came here with the rest of SG-1 a few years ago, General, before you took command of the SGC. I thought that was why the elders specifically requested that you be at the negotiations."

At first Jack didn't answer, glancing briefly at the DHD.

"That's right, Lieutenant," he said at last. "But they're the ones that set up this whole shebang. They wouldn't have done it if they don't plan to give us something, regardless of who actually turns up."

"Sir?" the lieutenant asked, and Jack realised that his final sentence had sounded as though he was addressing himself. Maybe he was. Jack shook his head and gestured the junior officer to lead the way.

They had gone only a few steps down the hill before Jack slipped awkwardly on the uneven ground. He let out a cry but managed to break his fall; the young lieutenant whipped round and hurried back towards him.

"General! Sir, are you alright?"

"I'm _fine_," Jack replied angrily. He had been asked that question countless times over the past eighteen hours, whenever anyone had found out Sam was missing. The lieutenant stretched out a hand to help him up, but Jack knocked it aside, muttering, "What am I, an invalid?"

"No, sir," his escort replied, abashed. Jack sighed and hoisted himself up. He seemed to lose his balance for a moment, and quickly grabbed hold of the other man's shoulders.

It only took Jack a couple of seconds to get hold of the lieutenant's zat gun. He slipped it out of its holster and stepped back before the young soldier could comprehend what was happening.

"Sorry, kid."

The serpent-like weapon sprang open. He fired.

A field of blue energy hit the junior officer and he fell, convulsing, to the ground. Jack paused a moment, his conscience objecting; he pushed the self-recriminating thoughts away, hunkering down to relieve the lieutenant of his weapons and ammunition. He worked quickly, leaving nothing he could use; this planet was safe enough, and SG-17 would find their youngest member as soon as they came investigate why he hadn't shown up at the settlement with O'Neill. It caused Jack a slight twinge of guilt to leave one of his own unarmed and vulnerable, but it couldn't be helped.

He stood up and ran back towards the DHD. After a brief glance around to check no-one was watching, he punched in the co-ordinates he had memorised before leaving Earth. The Stargate activated with a rush of energy. Jack readied his P90, cast one last glance over his shoulder, and then ran into the fluctuating blue of the event horizon.

**End of Part 1.**


	2. Open Arms

**Title:** Fire in the Sky**  
Part: **2/10**  
Fandom:** Stargate: SG-1  
**Pairing: **Sam/Jack  
**Genre: **Adventure, romance  
**Season:** Post-season 10; after Continuum.

**Chapter Summary: **SG-1 return from their latest mission to discover O'Neill is missing, and launch a rescue mission - only to find some surprising answers.

**PART TWO**

Hank Landry was growing increasingly frustrated with the man on the other end of the phone, and increasingly annoyed with whatever stunt Jack O'Neill had been trying to pull. Landry had just begun to explain – again – how his men were in no way responsible for O'Neill's disappearance when the klaxon began to sound and an incoming wormhole was announced; relieved for the interruption, he made his excuses and ended the call, hurrying from his office down to the Control Room.

"Chief?" he enquired automatically, glancing up at the closed iris of the Gate.

"SG-1, sir," Walter Harriman replied.

"Open it."

"Yes, sir."

Landry didn't wait to supervise the execution of his order. He made his way down another flight of stairs to the Gate Room and strode in through the blast doors in time to see the four members of SG-1 spilling out of the event horizon.

"Whew-hew!" Cameron Mitchell exclaimed, almost overbalancing at his faster-than-normal expulsion from the Stargate. Behind him, Daniel Jackson stumbled and almost fell when Vala ran straight into the back of him.

"Vala!"

"It wasn't on purpose!" she replied. At his glare, she admitted remorselessly, "Well, maybe a little."

Beside them, the perfectly stable Teal'c gave them all a slow, contemplative look, as though wondering how his comrades could be affected by such a minor thing as gravity.

"Colonel?" Landry prompted as the Stargate shut down. Mitchell exchanged a glance with Daniel – they had both heard the impatience in the General's voice – before hastily offering his report.

"The mission was a complete success, sir," he told his superior. "That's one more batch of _kassa_ tagged. We heard from the locals that it's due to be picked up by the Lucian Alliance by tomorrow, so once Sam gets back with the _Hammond_ she and her crew can go and figure out where the Alliance are hoarding their stockpile."

"And then _we_ can go and blow it up," Vala added cheerfully.

"Right," Cam agreed, before turning back to the General.

Landry looked at them for a moment, then inclined his head up towards the Control Room window. "Chief, ready the MALP and dial the co-ordinates."

Walter acknowledged the order with a dutiful, "Yes, sir." Daniel glanced around his teammates before asking,

"General, what's going on?"

"Briefing room," Landry replied, turning on his heel and marching towards the door. He heard SG-1 fall into step behind him just as Mitchell muttered,

"Oh, boy."

* * *

Daniel had known there was something wrong the moment General Landry had greeted them at the bottom of the ramp, but there was no way he could have been prepared for this. His incredulity spilled out in three monosyllabic words:

"Jack did _what_?"

Landry glanced at him sharply, and he realised that he had just cut the General off in the middle of his sentence. "Sorry," Daniel muttered. "But – are you _sure_ about this?"

"About as sure as the SG team member General O'Neill attacked," Landry answered gruffly.

"Out of curiosity, sir," Mitchell interjected, measuring his tone carefully, "what was General O'Neill doing offworld in the first place?"

Landry sighed. "General O'Neill agreed to go to Aurelis at the specific request of the elders to initiate trade negotiations; it was under his leadership that SG-1 first made contact."

"I remember that," Daniel muttered, casting his mind back to the mission that had taken place some years previous. "They had some sort of innovative power generation system. Sam said she'd never seen anything like it."

"Area 51 have been dying to get their hands on it ever since," Landry agreed. "But the trade negotiations aren't really the issue here. Regardless of the fact that General O'Neill has gone AWOL, he is still an Air Force general and he is still missing. I've been authorised to mobilise as many resources as necessary to find him."

Teal'c remarked, "I do not believe O'Neill would have taken such action without good reason."

"A secret mission?" Vala suggested.

"So secret he wouldn't tell us?" Daniel countered – though he couldn't help feeling it was at least possible. Vala shrugged. Daniel shifted his attention back to Landry and asked, "What does Sam think?"

Landry didn't answer immediately, and Daniel felt the cold grip of dread take hold in the pit of his stomach.

"We lost contact with Colonel Carter a little over nineteen hours ago," the General told them at last. "Colonel Carter was giving her latest report to O'Neill when the _Hammond_ began to sustain damage. Communications were affected almost immediately; she didn't have time to advise us of her situation. The good news is, the automatic emergency distress beacon never activated, which means the ship can't have been too badly damaged. As it stands, Colonel Carter and her crew are currently being considered missing in action."

"You don't think..." Vala began, trailing off as she sent a significant glance around the room. Daniel felt a surge of irritation at her suggestion and bit back a retort. As much as he wanted to deny it, it was the most obvious explanation for Jack's disappearance: Jack never left a member of his team behind, much less Sam.

"Alright, so _maybe_ he went after Carter," Mitchell said, though he sounded unconvinced. "Where would he go? She's in the middle of space."

"To one of our allies, perhaps," Teal'c offered. "One who could provide him with a space-worthy craft."

"But why didn't he wait for us to get back?" Daniel asked. He was a fraction relieved to find another flaw in the argument. "All he needed to do was wait another hour. He didn't have to go on his own."

Mitchell gave a word of agreement and turned back to Landry. "Do we have any other leads?"

It seemed Landry had been waiting for this question; he produced a small strip of paper and handed it to Mitchell, who studied it for a moment before passing it on to Daniel.

"A Gate address?" Daniel asked, recognising the hand-written symbols at once. The paper was heavily creased, as though it had been crumpled up and thrown away. Vala gestured him to pass it over, and he leaned across the table to give it to her.

Landry nodded. "We found it in General O'Neill's house a short while ago. Do any of you recognise the co-ordinates?"

"Not me," Vala replied as Mitchell and Daniel shook their heads. Teal'c gazed at it a moment before adding, "I do not."

"It must be a clue," Daniel said. "Think about it: if he really wanted to disappear without a trace, then why would he leave a Gate address for us to find? He must have known we would search his house." He looked appealingly around the table before focusing his attention on Landry. "General, there's got to be more going on here."

There was a brief pause as Landry considered this. To Daniel's relief, Mitchell came to his aid.

"Jackson's right," he agreed. "General O'Neill used to be black ops. He wouldn't leave something like this laying around, not by accident. He wanted us to find it."

"Have you tried dialling the co-ordinates, General Landry?" Teal'c enquired, his voice betraying his impatience. Daniel realised that Teal'c probably considered Jack's motives for leaving the address irrelevant; they had a lead, and they should follow it in pursuit of their friend.

Landry nodded briefly. "Walter's doing it now." He glanced through the large briefing room window, which looked down into the Gate Room. The Stargate was active.

Mitchell followed his gaze. "Looks like they got a lock."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Vala wondered, half-rising from her seat. "Let's go."

"Wait," said Daniel, and turned back to Landry. "What about Sam?"

"The _Odyssey_ is already on its way to the _Hammond_'s last known co-ordinates," Landry told him. "Don't worry, Dr. Jackson; we'll find them. Right now I need SG-1 to focus on the search for General O'Neill."

"Yes, sir," Mitchell agreed, before Daniel could respond. "When do we leave?"

* * *

They left as soon as the MALP had verified that the planet was safe. SG-1 stepped out of the wormhole and into air that was heavy with faint drizzle. Vala immediately pulled a face; Daniel reacted with a glare.

"It's just a little rain, Vala."

"You call this rain?" Vala retorted, trying to wave the tiny airborne droplets away from her face. "It doesn't even have the courtesy to fall in a straight line."

"Never mind about the rain," Mitchell interrupted impatiently. "Jackson, send back the MALP."

They waited in silence as Daniel did so. A heavy kind of tension hung over them – a tension that Mitchell knew would probably remain until they found O'Neill and completed their mission. Even then, he suspected it would linger until Sam was found alive and well. _If_ she was found...

He shook the thought from his mind before he could finish it. She was still out there. If the SGC hadn't tracked down the _Hammond_ by the time they got back, he would go out looking for her himself.

He heard the Stargate shut down and gestured Teal'c to lead the way down the path that led through a grove of trees towards some buildings in the distance. The path was deadly straight, and Daniel began theorising about a possible link to ancient Roman civilisation. Nobody stopped him.

The rain was subsiding by the time the town came fully into view. It seemed that Daniel had been right; Mitchell found himself remarking, "What is this, the set of _Gladiator_?"

Vala swept her gaze around the buildings and then fixed her eyes on the passers-by. "I thought Romans were supposed to wear – Daniel, what do you call...?"

"Togas," Daniel answered, without waiting for her to finish. "They wore togas."

"Guess they went for a new look this season," Mitchell commented, frowning at the fact that everyone he saw seemed to be wearing bullet-proof vests. Teal'c was eyeing the crowd warily.

"They all appear to be armed, Colonel Mitchell."

"Yeah, I got that," Mitchell replied. "Alright, let's try not to step on anybody's toes. We're just here to gather intel."

"We should probably split up," Vala told him. "This looks like the kind of place where getting approached by four armed strangers might make some people a mite jumpy."

Mitchell nodded, still scanning the loose crowd through which they were walking. They had reached the town square, which was crammed with stalls and bellowing merchants with questionable wares. "Teal'c, you go with Vala. Daniel and I will check out the nearest tavern. Keep in radio contact and _don't_ get into trouble."

He said this last with a warning look directed at Vala, who adopted an innocent smile. Teal'c turned and disappeared into the swarm of people surrounding them; Vala winked and darted after him.

"You know," said Daniel, clapping Mitchell on the shoulder as he began in the opposite direction, "you might as well have just told her not to _steal_ anything."

Mitchell frowned, glanced back over his shoulder, then followed Daniel into the crowd.

* * *

Vala cast her eyes over the merchandise that covered the stalls around her, absently following in Teal'c's wake as he cut a steady path through the milling customers. She was just thinking about the best way to con one of the stall owners into giving her a power coupling for nearly nothing when Teal'c stopped suddenly in front of her. She looked up in time to stop herself walking into him and said grumpily,

"Some warning would have been nice."

He turned so abruptly on the spot that she instantly regretted saying it. His tone as level as ever, he replied, "I do not see O'Neill here. We must begin questioning the inhabitants."

He scanned the stall proprietors with a hard gaze, and began to walk towards the nearest one. Vala hastily grabbed his arm.

"Uh... bad idea," she said, sizing up the stocky merchant's all-too-friendly expression. "That's the kind of guy who cons people for fun, not for money. We need someone we can bribe – or better still, sweet-talk. Someone like..." She skimmed the faces around her. "Ah-ha. This way, Muscles."

Vala adopted a bright smile and wove her way through the crowd towards the young proprietor of a jewellery stall. She began innocently perusing the items on the counter, which were protected from theft by a transparent force shield. She continued in silence for a while, aware that Teal'c was hovering somewhere behind her. She hoped he would be patient enough to let her work her magic.

At last the merchant behind the stand said, "Are you looking for anything in particular, ma'am?"

She looked up quickly, as though she hadn't realised he was there, and gave him a shy smile.

"Oh, nothing really, I just... well, it's all so pretty, isn't it?" She dropped her gaze to study the largest diamond in the case, which was in fact attached to a rather ugly chain. "It's a shame I can't buy anything until I find my escort. I don't suppose you've seen him?"

The merchant looked pointedly over her shoulder at Teal'c. Vala turned and gave a tinkling laugh.

"Oh, no, this is my Jaffa _bodyguard_. I mean my escort – my advisor – you know, the one who handles all the money side of things?" She lowered her voice. "I have an awful lot of it too – apparently!" She laughed again. "Isn't that right, Jaffa?"

Teal'c blinked at her, before reluctantly inclining his head. Vala turned back to the merchant with a beaming smile. He frowned at her.

"But... aren't you Tau'ri?" he asked, before adding defensively: "That's Tau'ri uniform; I'd recognise it anywhere."

Vala kept her smile steady. "Do you like it?" she asked, and gave a little twirl. "Specially made from authentic Tau'ri materials. It's the latest in high fashion this season. I have all my people dress this way. My outfits are a little better fitted, but I think it works – don't you agree?"

"It's... very nice. Authentic materials, you say? That must've cost." His tone was no longer bemused but engaging, and she realised with satisfaction that he had fallen for the act.

"I like to think so," Vala replied airily, picking an imaginary hair off her sleeve and casting it away into the non-existent breeze. She turned her gaze back to the diamond on the counter. "Yes, I think I shall buy this – just as soon as I find my escort..." She made a show of bobbing her head above the crowd. "Oh, where is that man? If I don't find him soon I shall tire of shopping altogether."

"Perhaps I can help," the merchant replied eagerly. "Wouldn't want you to go back home before making your best purchase of the day, would we?" Vala smiled at him, fluttering her eyelashes. He added, "I saw a man in Tau'ri uniform pass through here not long ago. He was wearing black, though, not green..."

"That's him," Vala answered quickly. "Did you see where he went?"

"He met up with some other uniformed types," answered the merchant. "Lucian Alliance. Ordering up your latest batch of _kassa_, that's my best guess."

Vala was unable to prevent herself exchanging a look with Teal'c, and the Jaffa replied, "Are you certain?"

"Sure. That's the thing with uniforms, right? You can tell where people are from, even from a distance. Present company excluded, of course."

Vala gave a polite smile. "And where, exactly, did they go?"

* * *

Cam Mitchell winced at the accusation in his superior's tone as Landry's voice came through the radio. Mitchell and the rest of SG-1 were standing in front of the Stargate, reporting back to the SGC after Teal'c and Vala's discovery.

"Are you trying to tell me," the General demanded, "that Jack O'Neill just walked into the arms of the Lucian Alliance? _Willingly_?"

"That's what it sounds like, sir," Mitchell replied, giving Vala a look that told her she better be sure about this. "Although I doubt it's quite a simple as that."

"Whatever the reason, General, we should check it out," Daniel chipped in. Mitchell offered him a wordless nod, grateful for the support.

"What about your source?" Landry replied. "Can we be sure this intel is valid?"

"Well, he's not exactly the most reliable source in the galaxy," Mitchell answered, "but Vala seems sure. Besides, this is the best lead we've got."

"This is the only lead we've got, Colonel," Landry reminded him. "That's why I'm giving you the order to follow it up. Get to it, people."

Mitchell opened his mouth to acknowledge the order only to pause; Teal'c was staring out into the trees, listening closely, his hands tight around his gun.

No sooner had Mitchell indicated for the Daniel and Vala to cover their flanks, they were surrounded. Immediately Mitchell dropped down to one knee, training his P90 towards the heavily-armoured mercenaries emerging from the tree line. He assessed their chances: they didn't look good.

Then a woman wearing the grey uniform of the Lucian Alliance stepped out onto the path, and his fears were confirmed.

"Colonel?" Landry prompted through the radio.

Weakly, Vala answered for him.

"Found 'em," she said.

**End of Part 2.**


	3. Hook, Line and Sinker

**Title:** Fire in the Sky**  
Part: **3/10**  
Fandom:** Stargate: SG-1  
**Pairing: **Sam/Jack  
**Genre: **Adventure, romance  
**Season:** Post-season 10; after _Continuum_

**Chapter Summary: **O'Neill's plan continues to unfold - but not quite as well as he had hoped.

**PART THREE**

O'Neill crouched low in the undergrowth, allowing his body to rest for a moment as he considered his surroundings. He reminded himself of the importance of this mission, and forced himself to suppress the pain in his protesting joints. He wasn't as fit as he used to be, despite his efforts; the older he became, the more difficult it was to keep in shape. He regretted that fact, now – bitterly.

He glanced down at his watch. SG-1 would be out looking for him by now, provided they had returned from their last mission on schedule. The co-ordinates he had left them had been an obvious clue, and it wouldn't be long until they ran into the Alliance. Hopefully he would be able to save Sam without them; but he hadn't been dumb enough to set off without a contingency plan.

His gaze travelled from his watch to the sky, and his muscles began to thrum with impatience. He felt coiled, ready to spring; every part of him wanted to rush into battle and fight, yet to do so would only put Sam in further jeopardy. He would have to wait for the cover of darkness; only then could he hope to ascend the hill to the east and infiltrate the pyramid that dominated the skyline.

The light was beginning to fade around him, but the haze of dusk wouldn't be enough; he needed the full cover of night. But he was anxious to put some distance between him and the cloaked cargo ship he had used to get here, and he knew he wasn't good at waiting – not for something like this. Not when one of his own needed him.

It didn't take him long to convince himself he should start identifying access points to the pyramid and mapping out patrol routes of the guards. Silently urging Sam to hold on, he hoisted himself up and began to run.

* * *

Teal'c was sitting with his back against the wall of the cell, keeping a watchful eye on the two figures slumped in the middle of the floor. The three members of SG-1 were surrounded by the fake gold interior of a Goa'uld mothership, though they were missing their leader: Mitchell had been taken by the guards as soon as he had woken.

Across the cell, Vala began to stir. Teal'c watched her dispassionately as she groaned and sat up, blinking open her eyes and rubbing her forehead. Then she noticed Daniel lying on the floor beside her, and gave him a shove. He didn't move.

"Lightweight," she muttered, and ran a hand through her thick, dark hair. She turned her attention towards Teal'c. "What happened?"

Succinctly, Teal'c answered: "An ambush. Lucian Alliance."

Vala nodded and glanced around the cell. She paused a moment, looking confused; she pointed at Daniel, Teal'c and herself as though counting. Then she looked questioningly at Teal'c, who explained: "Colonel Mitchell awoke several moments ago. The guards came to take him away."

"Oh." Vala frowned, before choosing to channel her anxiety by giving Daniel another shove. This time he woke with a start.

"Wha–?" he asked, scrambling to sit up. His glasses were skewed on his face; Vala sighed loudly and reached to straighten them. Daniel scowled and batted her hand away.

Teal'c silenced them with a raised hand. They listened: footsteps sounded outside. Getting to their feet, Daniel and Vala stood against the far wall as Teal'c took up position next to the door.

The door opened. Mitchell was pushed inside, and the door slid shut before Teal'c could make his move.

"Thanks, guys!" Mitchell called over his shoulder at the closed door. "Always a pleasure." He clapped Teal'c on the shoulder as he passed him, and asked the team at large:

"Everyone alright?"

"Oh, just terrific," Daniel replied dryly. "You?"

"No lasting damage," Mitchell answered dismissively.

"So?" Vala prompted. "What does she want?"

Mitchell looked around the group, frowning as though he couldn't quite make sense of it himself. Finally, he replied: "She wants us to help her... find O'Neill."

There was a stunned pause. Daniel was the one to break it.

"I'm sorry – what?"

Mitchell shrugged. "That's what she said."

Unconvinced, Teal'c raised an eyebrow and remarked, "That seems most unlikely."

"Why would she want our help?" Vala asked. "And just who _is_ she?"

"Her name is Lenai," Mitchell answered. "From what I can gather, she's the newest kid on the block in Alliance-town. She's obviously powerful enough to have a mothership and her own gang of henchmen, but I think she's on a mission to prove herself to the big boys. That means four members of SG-1 are not enough. O'Neill stole one of her cargo ships and now she wants him as well. She thinks we're the key."

"But you told her to go to hell," Daniel predicted.

"Obviously," Mitchell agreed. "Trouble is, the way she plans it, we might not have much choice."

"How's that?" Vala asked.

Mitchell explained: "We're not going to set the trap; we're the bait."

* * *

It wasn't long before the whole team was summoned to the bridge. They were dragged in by a sizeable escort of burly guards, all of whom seemed incapable of intelligible speech. Mitchell found himself jabbering away at them just to fill the silence between grunts.

He was rudely interrupted by one of the guards, who landed a heavy blow across his jaw.

Thrown back by the force of the bigger man's fist, Mitchell hit the floor and skidded several feet further into the room. Pain blossomed in his jaw and spread rapidly upwards into his skull, causing his eyes to blur and the floor to spin beneath him. He heard a scuffle somewhere in the distance and vaguely wondered who had tried to come to his rescue.

Something moved in front of his eyes. He blinked hard, and eventually the blurry something divided itself in two: boots. Mitchell slowly raised his head. Someone was staring down at him; a woman who reminded him of a girl he had once dated in college. She had the same, angry look on her face. What was her name? Cindy? Mindy? He wondered whether he always had such trouble remembering her name. He thought: _maybe that's why she was so mad all the time._

Then she spoke. "Get up, Cameron Mitchell."

Mitchell frowned at her as, finally, an iota of reality sank in.

"Hey, you're not Wendy," he said accusingly, and pointed a belated finger at her.

"Mitchell!" Daniel hissed from across the room. The urgency in his voice was enough to bring Mitchell to his senses; painfully, he picked himself up, and found himself face-to-face with Lenai.

"Nope," he murmured, "not Wendy at all."

Lenai glared at him. "You talk too much, Colonel. Now get back over with your friends before I find another reason to do you harm."

It seemed he didn't have much choice: two of her henchmen immediately moved forward, grasped him under the arms and all but carried him back to where the rest of SG-1 was standing. Lenai turned back to the navigation controls.

"We're in hyperspace," Mitchell suddenly said, unable to stop himself. His brain was still catching up with current events, and he had only just noticed the familiar blue of subspace streaming past the external window at the very front of the bridge. In an effort to turn his rather unnecessary comment into something vaguely intelligent, he added: "Where are we going?"

Lenai glanced over her shoulder at him. "Are you _sure_ you're the leader of SG-1?" she said. "Or is it common strategy among your people to act dense?"

"Take it from me, it's a common strategy," Vala piped up at once. "Unfortunately, more often than not they're not actually _acting_..." She threw Mitchell and Daniel a disparaging look.

Lenai gave a smirk before turning back to her controls. "O'Neill played that game too – exceedingly well, in fact. I had been warned about your team, Colonel Mitchell, but not about your General. He will not get away with it."

There was a jolt, and they dropped out of hyperspace.

"Engage the cloak," Lenai ordered. Her lieutenant at the auxiliary controls (the only other woman they had seen on the ship) obeyed.

"Cloak engaged."

"Returning to our original question," interrupted Daniel, "where are we?"

They looked. Stars glinted distantly in a vast blackness of limitless space.

"See for yourself." Slowly, Lenai turned the ship about, and the small, golden-brown orb of a planet came into view. It hung small and innocuous in the distance, orbited by a single moon. Asteroids floated haphazardly in wide orbit.

"Nope," said Daniel cheerfully. "Still got no idea."

Lenai glanced towards her deputy. "Imelda! Is the cargo ship's locator beacon still transmitting?"

Imelda gave a sharp nod. "We have its location – it's on the planet's surface. Internal sensors report no life-signs."

"He got to his destination quickly," Lenai noted with a faint note of approval in her voice. "Let's see if he's still there. If not..." She glanced over her shoulder at SG-1. "You're going to pay the penalty."

"Lenai." Imelda's voice sounded urgent. "Sensors detect another ship, approaching fast."

"What? Raise shields!" Lenai demanded, and span around. "Mitchell! How did they know we were here?"

Mitchell gave her an innocent smile. "So much for cloaking, huh?"

"A trap!" Lenai thundered. "Your O'Neill did this!"

Teal'c gave a smug incline of the head. "That is indeed most likely."

* * *

In fact, O'Neill's carefully laid out plans were not going nearly as well as he had intended.

Even as his consciousness drifted in the security of his dreams, something felt wrong to him. He felt his lips twitching into a frown. Beside him, in the haze of the dream, Sam mirrored his expression.

"What is it?"

He stared at her and tried to remember. She was lying next to him, her fathomless blue eyes gazing into his. He glanced briefly upwards and realised they were lying in the warmth of their bed, at home in Washington. He looked again at Sam. She must be on leave, he thought, except he knew she was supposed to be somewhere else – he couldn't quite put his finger on where.

"Aren't you supposed to be...?" Jack waved a hand towards the ceiling. "Out there, somewhere?"

Sam's frown turned quizzical. "No," she replied, and touched his chest. "I'm supposed to be _here_."

He nodded, sensing that she was right. "Yes," he agreed. "But you're not, are you? Here?"

She sighed, and moved forward to kiss him softly. He savoured the moment, touching the bare flesh of her shoulder. Her skin was warm beneath his fingertips. He thought: I remember this.

Then he thought: No, I really _remember_ this. This moment. These feelings.

Except the first time it happened, she had answered his original question with a grin and told him that SG-1 would be carrying out their mission without her. He had scolded her for keeping the secret, perplexed by the sacrifice she had made for him; she had sighed, leaned forward, and kissed him softly on the mouth. He had touched her shoulder, enjoying the warmth of her skin.

"Happy birthday," she'd said.

Jack tried to locate the occasion in the slightly jumbled timeline of his memory. It had been a couple of weeks before she had been formally offered the position of commander aboard the _Hammond_. They had only been married a month or so. Why was he thinking of that now? And if this was a memory, what was actually happening, in the present?

He felt a twinge of pain behind his eyes and realised that, whatever it was, it wasn't good.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to find himself voiceless; he began to panic, reaching for the safety of his wife's arms but catching her comfort only briefly, dragged upwards through layers of darkness until his closed eyelids were aflame with light.

All of a sudden he knew he was awake. Everything was much clearer, much more solid and a great deal more painful. He let out an agonised groan as every joint and muscle in his body seemed to flare up in some kind of torturous, internal rebellion. He gasped for breath but couldn't quite breathe deeply enough; his heart was beating far too fast and his skin was covered in a cold sweat.

And then he made the mistake of opening his eyes.

Arrows of bright light bombarded his vision, but that was not the worst thing: no, the worst thing was the face the light revealed.

Ba'al.

"General Jack O'Neill," he intoned with mock affability. "Welcome back! It is so _good_ to see you again."

Jack lurched towards him, fuelled by fury; Ba'al pulled back with a callous laugh. "So predictable." He straightened up and began to stroll back and forth across the torture chamber.

"I'm disappointed that you didn't take our agreement seriously. Coming here in a cloaked cargo ship?" He made an infuriating tutting sound. "I'm sure Colonel Carter will be sorry to hear how you failed to follow my instructions."

A surge of rage suppressed the pain long enough for Jack to force himself up off the floor. He stood despite the screaming of his muscles, and staggered forward as he almost lost his balance.

"If you so much as lay a finger on her..." he seethed. Ba'al stepped closer, grabbed O'Neill's shoulder and whispered:

"Too late."

The words struck him harder than any physical blow. The pain reasserted itself, along with a sense of horror and hopelessness; when Ba'al released him, O'Neill's legs buckled beneath him and he sagged back down to the floor.

"Let me see her," he begged.

Ba'al ignored the request. "It's not too late to buy back her freedom," he announced, his eyes full of sadistic amusement. He produced a small needle from his pocket and began inspecting the sharpness of the point. "All I want is a little... co-operation."

O'Neill glared at him, filled with pitch black guilt and white hot rage. His anguish was all but indistinguishable from the physical pain overwhelming his body; he had a vague recollection of his capture, and the beating he had already endured. He longed to return to the peace and comfort of his dreams, where he knew Sam would be waiting.

"Neither of you needs to suffer anymore – all you need to do is agree to help me." Ba'al leaned closer, his hand outstretched. He positioned the needle against the fragile skin of O'Neill's temple.

"Last chance."

**End of Part 3.**


	4. Behind the Times

**Title:** Fire in the Sky**  
Part: **4/10**  
Fandom:** Stargate: SG-1  
**Pairing: **Sam/Jack  
**Genre: **Adventure, romance  
**Season:** Post-season 10; after _Continuum_

**Chapter Summary: **The SGC finally receives some good news, but SG-1 is still in danger.

**PART FOUR**

_One hour earlier..._

Sam woke abruptly to the sound of her name. She lay there a moment, trying to identify the owner of the voice. She frowned; there was a dull but persistent ache at the back of her skull making it difficult to concentrate. She opened her eyes, blinking against the artificial light surrounding her, and croaked,

"Marks?"

"Colonel Carter!" He sounded relieved. Sam forced her eyes to focus and felt Marks's hand on her shoulder as he helped her to sit up.

The room swayed around her before settling back into place, complete with the familiar sights and sounds of the bridge. She realised, with an overwhelming sense of relief, that she was aboard the _Hammond_: whatever had happened, whatever the situation, she was with her crew.

Marks still looked concerned. "I'm alright," Sam assured him, and got to her feet. She glanced around the bridge; other people were picking themselves up off the floor, while a few had already moved over to their consoles and computer screens to find out what had happened.

"What's our situation?" Carter asked.

"We're not sure, Colonel," Marks replied. "Looks like something knocked out the whole ship."

"Casualties?"

"None reported as yet, but internal communications are still down."

Sam cast another glance around the bridge. No-one here seemed to have been injured by whatever had knocked them all out; she hoped the rest of the crew had been so fortunate.

"Send someone over to the infirmary to find out," she told Marks at last, and took her seat. Dutifully, Marks passed on the order to a security sergeant before following his superior's example and settling back behind his control console. Carter asked: "Damage report?"

The female captain on her right answered, "Pretty much everything is down – shields, communications, navigation, hyperdrive. We were on emergency life-support for a while there, but we were able to switch over as soon as we realised."

Surprised, Carter asked, "You mean no repairs were necessary?"

"No, ma'am. It was like someone just hit the off-switch."

Sam considered this a moment. "Try rebooting the other systems and see what else comes online," she said at last. The captain nodded and got to work.

"Colonel – there's one more thing," said Marks, hesitantly. "According to the log, we've been out for over... twenty-two hours."

"What?" asked Carter, startled. Marks nodded solemnly.

"That's what it says, ma'am."

Sam sighed. "Alright. Never mind that for now. Order your team to concentrate on getting our systems back online. I want shields, hyperdrive and communications as soon as humanly possible."

Marks gave a word of acknowledgement and set about executing her orders. Sam sat back in her chair, giving herself a moment to think. Her headache was mercifully subsiding, but her sense of confusion and disorientation persisted. She tried to piece together what had happened before she had been plunged into the familiar oblivion of unconsciousness; her mind was racing with possible explanations and probable causes.

"Internal communications online and fully operational," the captain on Sam's left reported.

"What about long-range?" Sam enquired. The officer shook her head.

"Not yet, ma'am. There seems to have been damage to the primary transmitters on the outside of the hull. I'll try the auxiliaries."

"Thank you, Captain." Carter reached for the button on the arm of her chair and activated the intercom. "All hands, this is Colonel Carter. We're obviously in the middle of a situation right now, but the first thing I want everyone to do is report to their supervising officer. Any medical concerns should be addressed to infirmary staff immediately and all departments are to keep regular contact with the bridge."

"Shields fifty percent operational," a voice reported from behind.

"Navigational computer online," somebody else added.

Sam felt the weight of anxiety begin to lift. It looked as though they had come away lightly from this one – nevertheless, she wouldn't be satisfied until she knew exactly what had happened.

She reached to activate the intercom a second time, meaning to contact the engine room. She was interrupted by Major Marks.

"Colonel," he said, glancing up from his console, "I've finished accessing the data log. You're going to want to see this."

* * *

Hank Landry did not consider himself to be a cynical man, or a man that naturally assumed the worst. After all, how many times had he given his people the benefit of the doubt, even when the odds were stacked against them? As leader of the SGC, he always had to believe the impossible could be made possible, because every time they activated the Stargate the impossible actually happened.

But even he had to admit that when the Gate technician on duty reported an unscheduled activation that afternoon he only expected more bad news.

"What is it, Sergeant?" he demanded, striding into the Control Room at a startling pace.

"I-I'm not sure, sir," the young sergeant stammered, taken aback by his superior's ferocity. "Hold on – we're receiving a transmission..."

An image appeared on the monitors above them, and to his amazement Landry found himself gazing at the fair but serious face of Samantha Carter.

"Colonel Carter?" He couldn't help the incredulity in his voice. A smile touched her lips.

"General. It's good to see you."

"Colonel!" he barked. "You've been out of contact for almost twenty-four hours!"

"Yes, sir – it wasn't intentional, believe me." She gave an apologetic smile, but seemed not to be fazed by his hard tone. He listened as she explained what had happened. She concluded:

"Most of the crew came round a little under an hour ago. Since then we've been working on restoring primary systems. Long-range communications are still inoperative, which is why we're sending a signal through the Stargate."

Landry glanced at the mighty grey ring he so often took for granted these days. The dull silver of the iris hid the active wormhole from view, but a faint blue glow still danced against the wall behind.

"Do you have any idea what happened?" he asked Sam. He looked back at her in time to see her adopt the slightly doubtful expression that meant she was about to offer an educated guess.

"We're still piecing it together, sir, but the data log seems to suggest the ship was damaged by a massive burst of electromagnetic energy from some kind of electrical storm. Looks like everyone on board received a mild electric shock and that's what knocked us all out. At the same time life-support stopped functioning properly which led to increased carbon dioxide in the air, meaning we were unable to regain consciousness until about an hour ago, when the system failed completely and emergency life-support took over." With a valiant attempt to lighten the mood, she added: "I can tell you, General, it was a shock to discover how long we'd been out."

Inwardly, Landry sighed. She was about to receive another shock, and once again he blamed Jack for embarking on a futile mission.

Carefully, he said, "Colonel, I'm afraid there have been some... developments since we lost contact."

The smile on Sam's face vanished. Tentatively, she asked: "Developments, sir?"

"I'm sorry to have to tell you, Sam, but Jack went AWOL the morning after the _Hammond_ was declared missing in action. We believe he had some kind of plan to rescue you. SG-1 went after him, but they've since been captured by the Lucian Alliance. I'm sorry, Sam. As of this moment, we have to presume that both Jack and SG-1 are in enemy hands."

* * *

Jack O'Neill shivered in the cold and the dark, trying to suppress the memories that were bubbling up through his consciousness. But his memories were mingling with his fears and it was becoming harder and harder to distinguish the two; yet still he knew that he mustn't remember. He mustn't sleep, because he mustn't dream. He mustn't remember.

* * *

Teal'c watched as the approaching Goa'uld mothership rapidly grew closer, and decided the time for talking was over.

Lenai had turned her attention back to flying the ship, shouting instructions to her lieutenant.

"Launch the gliders!" she added to the guards holding SG-1. One of the men restraining Teal'c released him from his grip so that he could follow the order; immediately Teal'c broke free of his restraints, turning on the two men that were trying to hold him. In the next moment Mitchell, Daniel and Vala were following suit, throwing off their captors and quickly knocking them to the ground.

More guards were coming. Teal'c yelled a warning and Mitchell grabbed the weapon of one of the guards that lay unconscious on the floor. Vala was already engaging two of the closest men in hand-to-hand combat as Teal'c and Daniel followed Mitchell's example and armed themselves.

"This would be a lot easier with our own weapons!" Vala exclaimed breathlessly, ducking as one of her adversaries tried to land a heavy punch. Bright flashes of weapons fire rushed past her on either side.

"Vala!" Daniel called, and tossed her an energy weapon. She caught it, struck one guard in the stomach with the butt end, then fended off the other with a blast that lit up the corridor with a violent flash of blue.

Teal'c, for his part, had not forgotten the mothership that was approaching from the planet. He paused a moment to glance at the large screen on the other side of the bridge. The image was flashing with a warning in Goa'uld.

"Colonel Mitchell!" Teal'c called. "We must leave immediately!"

As though to confirm his words, the entire ship shook with a sudden impact; Daniel, Mitchell and Vala careered into the wall.

"They've opened fire!" Imelda told Lenai. "Their weapons are penetrating our shields!"

"Get us back into hyperspace!" Lenai growled.

Mitchell signalled the others, and they hurried wordlessly down the corridor, weaving their way between Lenai's men, who now lay sprawled and motionless on the floor. Another impact rocked the ship, and then another; in sheer frustration, Mitchell exclaimed:

"This was a bad plan!"

"I'll be sure to tell Jack that when we actually find him," Daniel replied, his tone indicating that he was in total agreement.

"We need to get to the glider bay," Vala interrupted, sounding uncharacteristically pragmatic. Ahead of them, the hallway veered off in two different directions. "Which way, Muscles?"

Without hesitation, Teal'c replied, "This way," and veered down the left corridor. The rest of the team followed at a run. Then they turned a corner, and saw that Lenai was waiting.

She was surrounded by armed soldiers. As his team drew to a reluctant halt, Mitchell threw up his hands and said, "That's just cheating!"

Lenai gave him a crooked smile. They felt the ship give another agonised shudder as more enemy missiles impacted the hull.

"The Goa'uld who owned this ship before me thought it of the utmost importance to have his own secret escape passages." She took a step forward. "You didn't think I was going to let you go so easily, did you, Mitchell? I'll admit I was careless with O'Neill, but I've learnt my lesson. Guards!"

They heard the unsettling sound of weapons being made ready to fire.

"Hey, no, wait," Daniel spluttered. "I mean, surely we're more valuable to you alive...?"

"Disappointingly for you, no," Lenai answered darkly. "Handing you over to my superiors alive might have gained me a little more money, yes, but you've already proven yourselves far too much trouble. I'll get just as much prestige and _almost_ as much money if I hand you over dead."

Vala gave a sarcastic smile. "In case you haven't noticed, darling, your ship is under attack. How do you expect to take us anywhere?"

Lenai returned her mocking expression. "Don't you worry about that, honey. The point is this: either I kill you and take you to my superiors, or you die with me on this ship. Either way..." She shrugged. "You die."

"You know," said Mitchell, "dying doesn't work for us today." He glanced over her shoulder, and almost laughed. "I don't think it works for your guys, either."

He nodded towards the soldiers that had been standing ready to execute her orders. A large group of them were hurrying into the glider bay, hoping to escape the ship before it was destroyed; those who remained were giving one another uncertain looks. Teal'c gave a grim smile.

"It appears that your men are cowards, Lenai."

"_Smart_ cowards," Vala interjected, and gave a little shooing gesture to the remaining soldiers at Lenai's side. They exchanged glances and, evidently deciding their job was not worth dying for, hurried after their comrades. Scowling with rage, Lenai turned back to face SG-1.

Before they could react, she drew her weapon and fired four times.

At exactly the same moment, the corridor was bathed in a dazzling flash of white light.

Then, barely a minute later, Lenai's ship exploded.

**End of Part 4.**


	5. Any Risk, or None

**Title:** Fire in the Sky**  
Part: **5/10**  
Fandom:** Stargate: SG-1  
**Pairing: **Sam/Jack  
**Genre: **Adventure, romance  
**Season:** Post-season 10; after _Continuum_

**Chapter Summary:** It's time for a new plan.

**PART FIVE**

Daniel opened his eyes, and was mildly surprised to find himself still alive. He had clamped his eyes shut at the bright light, the less optimistic part of him assuming it to be the explosion of Lenai's ship; he vaguely remembered thoughts of ascension but, mercifully, he had managed to escape that particular route – again. He wasn't sure how he kept doing it.

In front of him, the interior of a Daedalus-class ship hummed with the sound of smoothly-running engines. He heard the calm exchange of information in the tones of highly-skilled people who knew exactly what they were doing, and quickly looked towards the commander's chair – only to see the hard, serious face of Colonel Davidson.

"The _Odyssey_," he muttered.

"No need to sound so enthusiastic, Dr. Jackson," Davidson told him dryly.

"Oh," Daniel began, "no, I just – I thought maybe the _Hammond_–"

"Beggars can't be choosers, doctor," Davidson interrupted brusquely. He glanced around the team, who were all standing in front of him on the bridge. "Colonel Mitchell," he said, "was General O'Neill on that ship?"

"No," Mitchell replied, adding, "we... haven't found him yet."

Davidson nodded. "Good. Because the ship you were on just blew up." He gestured behind them. They turned, and saw the fading glow of the explosion, debris floating outwards into empty space.

"Oh," said Vala in mock surprise. "Well would you look at that."

"Yeah..." said Daniel. "You know, we should probably get out of here before that other ship starts shooting at _us_." He indicated the enemy ship that still remained intact; it was quickly changing course towards them.

"The ship is cloaked, Dr. Jackson," replied Davidson impatiently.

"That's what _they_ said," Vala piped up, pointing towards the disintegrated mothership, "right before that other ship made them go _boom_."

"It appears we may be their next target," Teal'c remarked dispassionately. Davidson looked doubtfully at Mitchell, who said,

"Look, they've obviously found a way to see through a Goa'uld cloak. They're on an intercept course with the _Odyssey_, so chances are they can see us, too. So can we get out of here already?"

Davidson gave a sharp nod and turned to his second-in-command. "Get us into hyperspace," he said. "Bring us out at the designated co-ordinates." Swiftly, the crew obeyed.

As the ship plunged into a blue universe of high-speed travel, Daniel felt himself relaxing, but only slightly. After all, the only lead to Jack's whereabouts was now, in all likelihood, deceased, and as far as SG-1 knew Sam was still missing. He opened his mouth to ask for news on the search only for Mitchell to beat him to it.

"Any word on the _Hammond_?"

For the first time since their arrival on the _Odyssey_, Colonel Davidson gave a slight smile. Before he could reply, however, the officer at the navigation controls reported, "Approaching co-ordinates."

"Bring us out of hyperspace," Davidson replied. There was a sudden change as the rushing blue of hyperspace was replaced by an immovable vista of stars. To SG-1, Davidson nodded behind them and said, "See for yourselves."

They turned. A small, grey shape occupied the space in the distance.

"Receiving transmission," the communications officer reported. At once Sam Carter's face appeared on the communications screen.

"Sam!" Daniel exclaimed. "Hey! Uh, it's good to see you!"

Beside him, Vala nodded fervently. Teal'c said: "Are you and your crew in good health, Colonel Carter?"

"We're just fine," Sam smiled back, though Daniel thought the expression looked somewhat strained. She continued: "So what happened to you guys?"

Glancing around his team, Mitchell replied, "We could ask you the same question!"

Davidson cleared his throat. "Colonel Carter," he said, "if you don't mind, I think there will be time for debriefing later; the _Odyssey_ has been ordered to take the _kassa_ mission the _Hammond_ was originally scheduled to take." The criticism was veiled, Daniel thought, but it was there. "Request permission to beam SG-1 aboard, along with the supplies you requested."

"Of course," Sam replied courteously, apparently choosing to ignore the impatience in Davidson's tone. "Permission granted. And thank you, Colonel."

Davidson nodded, and turned to the officer beside him. "Send them over, Lieutenant."

* * *

Vala tapped her fingers impatiently on the briefing table. It was a smooth, somewhat reflective surface, and she leaned forward in her chair to inspect her hair. After plumping it up with her fingers she sat back again with a loud sigh.

"We've only been here two minutes," said Daniel irritably. He was standing behind her at the window with his hands in his pockets.

Mitchell, who was leaning back in his chair and showing every sign of sharing Vala's impatience, removed one hand from behind his head and consulted his watch.

"Four and a half," he corrected. Beside him, Teal'c leaned over to check the reading. Mitchell moved his arm away indignantly.

"See?" Vala said. "I don't see why Davidson couldn't have just beamed us to the bridge. And what's Sam doing, anyway? You'd think she'd want to talk to us about what we've found out. It _is_ her husband out there..."

"I imagine she knows that, Vala," Daniel replied waspishly. Mitchell frowned at the ceiling.

"Assuming someone actually told her," he said. "I mean, the _Hammond_'s been out of contact for a long time."

"There!" Vala responded, pointing at Mitchell. "Even more reason not to waste... time..."

Teal'c stood up from his chair. Vala fell silent, watching him as he strode towards the door. It opened just as he reached it, and a small woman in flight uniform almost walked into him in the doorway.

"Oh – sorry, sir." She stepped aside, but Teal'c did not move.

"We wish to see Colonel Carter," he said as he towered over her.

The sergeant glanced up at him uncertainly. "She's on her way," she said, as firmly as she could. "She asked me to tell you that she'll be here as soon as she's finished co-ordinating repairs."

Teal'c didn't move.

"What kind of repairs?" asked Daniel in a kindly tone.

"Life-support," the sergeant answered.

Teal'c stared at her a moment, apparently deciding whether or not this explanation was permissible. The sergeant gazed back determinedly.

"Please step back into the room, sir," she said.

"I will not," he replied.

"Teal'c," Mitchell began, sitting up in his chair. Teal'c half-turned back towards him.

"O'Neill is still missing, Colonel Mitchell. We should return to his last known location immediately."

Teal'c strode forward, through the door; the young sergeant moved quickly out of the way. Vala, sensing some entertainment afoot, sprang up from her chair and breezed past the bewildered sergeant without a word. Mitchell glanced at Daniel; the archaeologist shrugged, and the two men followed their teammates out.

Behind them, the sergeant hurried after them, calling: "Sirs – ma'am – please, wait!"

Vala threw her a beaming smile over her shoulder, and hurried to catch up with Teal'c. He glanced at her lively expression and raised an eyebrow. They turned the corner, following the corridor that led to the bridge, and drew to a halt as they saw Sam walking towards them.

"Hey, guys," she said, giving a brief smile. "Going somewhere?"

At that moment, the young sergeant appeared around the corner. "Colonel, I'm so sorry," she said breathlessly. "I tried to pass on your message but they wouldn't listen..."

She shot Teal'c and Vala a reproachful look. Sam glanced fondly at her team. "It's alright, sergeant. Go ahead and resume your duties."

The sergeant saluted – "Yes, ma'am!" – and vanished down the corridor.

Before anyone could say anything further, Teal'c stepped deliberately towards Sam and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"O'Neill is missing," he said. "We must not delay in the continuation of our search."

"You did _know_, right?" Mitchell asked her hesitantly. "I mean, Davidson did tell you."

Sam sighed. "Actually, General Landry told me. We've been back online for a few hours, but I couldn't risk flying the ship until we had done a full system check. The _Odyssey_ was out looking for us, but once we reported in they were redirected to pick you up."

"Just in time, too," Daniel quipped.

"But what happened to you, Sam?" Vala asked. "Where have you been all this time?"

"Let's head back to the briefing room," Sam told them. "I'll explain everything there."

* * *

Of course she had known. Even if she hadn't been in contact with Earth, Davidson would have told her by now: after all, Jack was her _husband_.

She took it as a sign of her resolve that they had doubted it. She was doing what she had to do, which was pretending to be all that the situation required.

Pretending she was in control.

Pretending she could follow procedure.

Pretending she wasn't so afraid.

Sam glanced across the briefing table and wondered if she was still fooling the members of her old team. There was Daniel, always so empathetic, gazing at her compassionately from behind his glasses; and Teal'c, sitting next to him, brooding and watchful. They both knew what Jack meant to her. They had both seen the way she and Jack had grown closer year on year, mission on mission; had no doubt sensed the often uneasy tension that had so often characterised their working relationship. It hadn't been fair on them, of course it hadn't; but they had shared the burden she and Jack had brought to the team without complaint.

After all, they had all come to SG-1 with their own baggage: Jack, a broken man after his son's death; Daniel, the husband who had lost his wife to the Goa'uld; Teal'c, a traitor cut off from his family; and Sam herself, trying desperately to prove herself to anyone who was watching.

Yes, she was pretty sure Teal'c and Daniel would see right through her show of calm authority – if not now, then very soon. Even Cam and Vala, who didn't know so much of her history with Jack, knew that she would not rest until he was brought home to safety. _But this is still a briefing,_ she reminded herself. _This is not the time for irrational decision-making._

"Sam?" Mitchell prompted. He had just finished explaining what had happened aboard Lenai's ship, and how she had taken them to the planet to which Jack had apparently flown the stolen cargo ship.

Ignoring his concerned expression, Sam replied: "Could you glean any intel about what's on the planet's surface?"

Cam shook his head. "Nothing other than the fact that the cargo ship had been abandoned; it's emitting some kind of locator beacon, but according to Lenai there were no life-signs in the vicinity. Still, if we can go back and find it, we'll have a good starting point for a search."

"Ah, but let's not forget the rather large Goa'uld mothership in orbit," said Vala, wagging her finger at Cameron. "One that can apparently see through both Goa'uld and Asgard cloaking technology."

"The planet may in fact be an enemy stronghold," Teal'c agreed. "It would be unwise to return without some other strategy."

"Maybe the planet has a Stargate," Daniel suggested hopefully.

"If Teal'c's right, Daniel, it'd be heavily guarded," Sam pointed out. "Walking in there would be an even bigger risk than returning by ship. What about the surrounding region of space?" she added, turning back to Mitchell. "Anything we could use to mask our approach?"

"There were some asteroids, I think..." Mitchell began uncertainly. "To be honest, Sam, we were thinking more about escaping than the view."

"There was a moon!" said Daniel suddenly. "Wasn't there a moon?"

"I believe so, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c replied.

"Well that's it then!" Vala announced cheerfully. "If we get in close enough we can use the moon to shield us from their sensors."

"Getting in close enough may be the challenge," Sam remarked. "We'll have to come out of hyperspace in exactly the right place for this to work."

"Maybe we can use the data collected by the _Odyssey_," Mitchell suggested. "It's standard for _Daedalus_-class ships to record all sensor data, right?"

Sam pursed her lips. Cameron was right, but that didn't make the task much easier; it was still practically impossible. Her whole crew would be in jeopardy. Yet there was a nagging part of her – the part of her that said, _Any risk is worth it._

"Sam?" said Daniel.

"I'm not sure you realise how difficult it will be to do this, even with the data," she said. "A millisecond too long in hyperspace and we could end up appearing on the wrong side of the moon – or worse, inside it. It's just too dangerous." She looked around the group, and for the first time she felt her desperation beginning to show. "There has to be something else. _Please_."

"Can't we come out of hyperspace somewhere out of sensor range, then just, I don't know, line ourselves up with the moon and use sublight engines to get us there?" Vala suggested. "We won't end up inside anything and we can use the moon itself to mask our approach."

"Such a plan would undoubtedly take time," Teal'c responded. "Time O'Neill may not have."

"Alright," said Mitchell, holding up a hand. "We get as close as we can to the planet but stay out of sensor range. We take F-302s to check out the area, using the asteroids as cover. Then we try to find a way down to the planet without being detected. If they've just got one mothership, it shouldn't be too hard to slip through on the other side of the planet. Meanwhile the _Hammond_ gets into position behind the moon. Even if we come out of hyperspace on the wrong side of the planet and have to go all the way around to get there, the F-302s will already be gathering intel so the time won't be wasted."

There was a brief pause as they thought this over. At last Sam spoke.

"Right," she said, and the word came out as a sigh of relief. "I'll get Major Marks to retrieve the planet's co-ordinates from the _Odyssey_. Thank you." The final two words were as heartfelt as she could make them. Cam nodded solemnly.

"Teal'c and I can go amongst the F-302s," he said. "We shouldn't take more than three."

"What about us?" Vala asked, gesturing herself and Daniel. Mitchell replied,

"There's no room in an F-302 for passengers, Vala. Once we've found our way in we can figure out the rest of the plan from there."

Vala pouted but gave no further resistance. Sam was already standing up from her chair.

"Let's not waste time," she said. "Cam, I'll assign my best pilots to accompany you and Teal'c to the planet. Daniel, Vala, General Landry is waiting to be debriefed about SG-1's time aboard the enemy ship."

Something in her tone indicated that they shouldn't keep him waiting; Daniel gave a word of acknowledgement and said, "Let's go, Vala." The two of them rose from the table and headed out of the door. Sam made eye-contact with Mitchell as he and Teal'c also rose from their chairs. Taking the hint, Mitchell stayed back as Teal'c followed his other team-mates out of the door.

At last Sam said, "This is your mission, Cam."

"Thanks," he said, and smiled. "I'll make sure I get your F-302s back safely."

Sam's grave expression didn't falter. "Not just the F-302s," she said. "This mission. The whole mission. You know the rules, Cam. I'm too involved in this one. My emotions... could cloud my judgement."

"Well sure, but... I figured that if Landry didn't think you were fit for duty he'd have recalled the _Hammond_ and assigned _Odyssey_ to the mission in her place."

Sam shook her head. "The _kassa_ mission is still important. Davidson clearly thinks the _Hammond_ should still be going to execute those orders, but the truth is, General Landry didn't think I would be capable of running any mission right now." She sighed. "He's right. Cam, I can't do anything, can't make any decision without thinking about Jack from beginning to end. At least if I'm here I'm part of the rescue mission, if only from a distance."

"But surely..."

Sam cut him off with a shake of her head. "General Landry ordered me to make it clear to you: you are in charge of the mission from now until Jack is safely aboard this ship. My jurisdiction only extends as far as the safety of my crew. The rest is up to you."

Slowly, Mitchell reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder.

"We'll get him back, Sam," he said. "All of us – together."

**End of Part 5.**


	6. Never Let Go

**Title:** Fire in the Sky**  
Part: **6/10**  
Fandom:** Stargate: SG-1  
**Pairing: **Sam/Jack  
**Genre: **Adventure, romance  
**Season:** Post-season 10; after _Continuum_

**Chapter Summary:** The rescue begins.

**PART SIX**

Jack had known it would be impossible to resist sleep – but he had tried. He had forced himself to sit up and concentrate solely on his surroundings, because he was pretty sure that whatever Ba'al had implanted in his brain was capable of reading his thoughts. And if Ba'al was in his head, that meant Jack couldn't afford to be reckless; he couldn't let his mind wander, not even for a moment.

But letting his mind wander was what Jack did best, and though he often passed it off as a child-like attention span, there was an intelligence there that needed to be occupied. He could only stare at a badly-designed Goa'uld light fixture for so long before his mind took over and guided his thoughts to something more interesting. But in Jack's world, interesting meant dangerous.

And then there was the overpowering desire to focus on Sam.

But thinking about Sam was dangerous too; he was deathly afraid of recalling some weakness of hers, or even of his, that would give Ba'al ammunition in her torture.

_Her torture_.

He shuddered at the thought, and then discovered he couldn't stop shaking.

_Where the hell is SG-1?_

He struck his head back against the wall, hard. Pain jarred through the back of his skull; black spots appeared before his eyes, and he took satisfaction in yelling at the pain. He deserved it, after all: that was exactly the type of information he had been trying to avoid thinking about.

Jack closed his eyes, feeling drowsy again. He sighed in relief at the sinking sensation he felt as his head fell forward and his chin rested on his chest. Then he caught himself, and jerked awake, cursing.

He couldn't keep this up forever. He was already making mistakes, and he was getting more and more exhausted as each moment passed. He was hurt and angry and totally alone, and all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep; but if he slept, he would have absolutely no control over what surfaced in his mind's eye. Yet the more he resisted the more he found his thoughts slipping into the ideas, pictures; he was already almost dreaming. Memories meandered through his mind. He needed something to focus on – something other than the pain.

So he began to recall the most trivial things he could think of: the last thing he'd seen on TV; the kind of dog they'd talked about getting; the conversation he'd had with Teal'c about hats ("Look, T, it's simple: if it's got a flower on it, or a bow, or any other kind of fancy ornament, _just say no_!"). The thought of Teal'c in a flowery hat amused him for a while, until he realised it would probably amuse Ba'al too, so he stopped thinking about it.

Sam's face drifted into the gap. She looked hurt and afraid; his heart jolted in his chest. He tried to shake the image away, afraid of what he might think or feel – and then realised he couldn't do it. She stayed there before his eyes, and he let his eyelids slip closed. He couldn't let go of her. He could never let go.

* * *

In the cramped cockpit of an F-302 fighter jet, Cam Mitchell was completing his final pre-flight checks. His craft, along with two others, was resting on the runway in the _Hammond_'s vast F-302 fighter bay, preparing for launch. In the rear seat of Mitchell's jet, Teal'c was reporting in his deep, calm manner that all weapons were online and functioning.

"Thanks, Teal'c," Mitchell said when he had finished, and flicked the switch on his radio.

"Alright, boys," he said. "Remember, this is recon only. We will not engage the enemy unless absolutely necessary. Stealth is the order of the day. Keep to my flanks. Cadstone, you'll be on my right; Meyer, on my left. We're gonna keep in tight formation until we reach low orbit; then we'll split off and do our surface scans. Everyone clear on that?"

"Fighter 2 copy. All systems go."

"Fighter 3 copy. Ready to launch."

Mitchell nodded to himself, then addressed his flying buddy. "You ready, Teal'c?"

"I am, Colonel Mitchell."

"Then let's find ourselves a missing US general."

* * *

On the bridge, the communications officer said: "Colonel Carter? Colonel Mitchell reports that Fighters 1, 2 and 3 are ready and awaiting your order."

Sam acknowledged this with a nod and a word of thanks before turning back towards Major Marks. "How long until we drop out of hyperspace?"

"Fifty seconds," replied Vala, before he could speak. She had been hanging over his shoulder, peering at the readings. Marks gave her a reproachful look.

"I want the cloak engaged as soon as we emerge," Sam said, seeing none of this. "We don't know who else might be in the area."

Marks acknowledged, "Yes, ma'am," and adjusted the controls on his console. Then he said: "Thirty seconds remaining."

Sam hit the comms button on the arm of her chair. "Cam? We've got about thirty seconds before we come out of hyperspace. If the immediate area is clear you'll be given the go-ahead to launch. Once you're clear, we'll get as close as we can to the planet without being detected, but once you enter the asteroid belt we won't be able to come to your aid. If you get into trouble we'll have to beam you out and the mission will be compromised."

"Copy that, Sam," Mitchell's voice replied.

"Have no fear, Colonel Carter," Teal'c added: "the mission will succeed."

A smile flickered briefly across Sam's face, but she gave no reply as the navigation officer announced they were about to leave hyperspace. Abruptly, the streaming blue that had been filling the window in front of them vanished, replaced by the distant planets of the solar system they had now entered.

"Cloak engaged," Marks reported.

"Anything on sensors?" Sam asked immediately. Daniel, who had been keeping an eye on the sensors at Sam's request, shook his head.

"If there's anything out there, it's not showing up on the screen," he said. "I can't even see the mothership that blew Lenai's ship to bits. Are you sure we're in the right place?"

"We're in the right place," the navigation officer replied. "The asteroid belt around the planet may be interfering with our readings."

"Or it could be cloaked," Vala pointed out.

"Can we see the moon?" Sam enquired. The navigation officer nodded.

"Yes, ma'am. It's currently on the near side of the planet. We should be able to adjust our heading and use it for cover as we approach."

"Alright, prepare to move in closer." Sam turned to Marks. "Open the F-302 bay doors."

"Opening bay doors."

Sam pressed the comms button a second time. "Cam, you have a go. Good luck."

"Thanks, Sam." There was a brief pause, then: "Launching in three... two... one... launch."

Through the window, those on the bridge caught a glimpse of three shapes streaking silently away from the ship, heading towards the small shining globe floating in space ahead of them.

Marks reported: "Fighters 1, 2, and 3 have left the bay."

"Close the bay doors," Sam said, and turned her attention back to her crew. "Take us in."

* * *

Vala carefully measured her aim. Her target was a mere few feet away, directly opposite: an easy kill. She wondered, briefly, whether it was too easy. Then she decided that with Daniel, there was no such thing.

She let go of one end of her fork and watched with satisfaction as her carefully-balanced pea catapulted across the table and bounced off Daniel's forehead.

He looked up at her and scowled. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded.

She gazed back innocently. "_I_ should be asking what's wrong with _you_."

"What? There's nothing wrong with me."

"Yes there is. You've been ignoring me. I've been trying to get your attention in a whole host of imaginative ways for the last ten minutes; only _now_ do you snap at me."

"Did it not occur to you that the reason I may have been ignoring you was _because_ you were trying to get my attention in increasingly annoying ways?"

"Not really." Vala tapped her now-empty fork on the table. "So... what is it? Boy trouble?"

Daniel gave a deeply sarcastic look and pointedly returned to his meal. Vala leaned forward across the table. "Seriously. Mitchell and Teal'c are out having all the fun while we're sitting behind a moon with nothing to do but wait. So can you please at least _try_ to entertain me with conversation?"

Daniel dropped his cutlery and looked up at her. All at once Vala knew she had said the wrong thing.

"Entertain you?" Daniel repeated incredulously. "My best friend's missing, Mitchell and Teal'c are risking their lives to look for him, and you want me to _entertain _you?"

"That's not what I–"

"Yes, Vala. That's exactly what you meant. You want some kind of distraction because waiting is boring for you. Well I'm sorry you're bored. But I've got other things to think about."

He pushed his chair back, but Vala caught his wrist to prevent him from leaving the table.

"Daniel. I'm sorry. I know this isn't easy for you – I was just trying to keep the tone light." She gave a hopeful smile. "Sit down? Please?"

Daniel sighed, glanced around the mess hall, and then slumped back down into his chair. Vala gently released his wrist.

"I'm sorry," she said again.

"Yeah, well," he mumbled. "You've gotta start learning where the line is, Vala. If you want to know how I am, just ask. Don't go flicking peas at me from across the table."

"But that's how I make all my victims talk," Vala said, grinning ever so slightly. Daniel gave her a grudging smile, which faded as he picked up his fork again and proceeded to prod at the food left on his tray.

"I guess I'm just worried," he said.

"About General O'Neill?"

"Yeah, about Jack – but about Sam, too."

"You're worried about Sam?" Vala asked, surprised. "Why? I thought she seems to be dealing with it all quite well, considering."

Daniel shook his head. "She's good at pretending at times like this. For Sam, her duty always comes first, even if her world is turning inside out. She'll do her best to make sure her emotions don't affect the decisions she has to make."

"But that's impossible," Vala protested. "Emotions always have a part to play in decision-making, even if you end up going against them. Sometimes emotions give you the strength to _make_ the decisions."

A warm smile crossed Daniel's features. Unsure of this reaction, Vala asked: "What?"

"I just forget how perceptive you can be sometimes."

Vala frowned, not knowing whether the remark was intended to be ironic. There was no time for her to respond, however: Daniel was standing up again.

"What have I done this time?" Vala asked, dejected, as he gathered up his tray.

"Nothing," Daniel replied. "I just figured that instead of worrying, I should go talk to her. Maybe all she needs is someone she can be honest with."

Vala relaxed slightly, and nodded. "Okay. Here..." She picked up the dessert bowl from her tray, the contents of which she had not yet eaten. "Give her this from me."

Daniel nodded back at her, smiling once again at Vala's unexpected sensitivity. She watched him leave, then selected another pea from her plate, and scanned the room for another unsuspecting target.

* * *

_"Jack..."_

_"Sam. It's our anniversary."_

_"It's not fair on the crew. I'm their commander – I can't expect them to go weeks without seeing their loved ones if I can't live up to it myself."_

_"Perhaps I should rephrase that: this is our first anniversary. Besides, I think you underestimate the amount your country – your planet – owes you."_

Sam heard a knock at the door, and hastily paused the recording. For some reason she felt guilty for watching it, as though seeing Jack's face smiling and animated denied the reality of their situation. But it was a comfort, too, because it reminded her that after all they had been through, apart or together, they had always come out the other side.

The knock came a second time. Reluctantly, Sam stood up from the bed and moved towards the door. She wasn't surprised to find Daniel waiting on the other side.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"Can I come in?"

She nodded and turned away from him, all too late realising that the paused recording still displayed a static image of Jack on the screen. He wore an expression of feigned innocence. She sat back down on the bed, feeling tears building behind her eyes.

"Some anniversary, huh?" she said, avoiding Daniel's gaze.

"Well, you know Jack," Daniel replied, glancing at the screen. "He likes to make things... memorable."

Sam chuckled quietly and quickly wiped away her tears. Then she turned to him, smiling as convincingly as she could, and gestured the bowl in his hands. "Jell-O?"

Daniel looked down at the unnaturally blue dessert. "Yeah... it's Vala's, actually. She wanted me to give it to you."

The smile on Sam's face visibly changed into something more genuine. "Really? That's sweet."

"Yeah. She surprises me sometimes. Quite often, in fact." He placed the bowl down on the bedside table, and glanced at the image on the screen again. "Is this...?"

"Our last conversation before communications went down," Sam nodded. She raised the remote and pressed play. Jack's face resumed speaking.

_"Speaking of owing you something... have you, uh, spoken to Marks lately?"_

_"Marks?" _A pause, then laughter. Hers. It sounded distant and unreal. _"Oh, the champagne. Yes, I discovered that last week."_

Daniel smiled slightly. "I told him that wouldn't work," he murmured.

Sam sighed. "Well, you know Jack," she said, echoing Daniel's earlier comment. Her tone was both ironic and mournful. She paused a moment, listening to her own voice prattle on about ship regulations. Then she said:

"General Landry asked me if I had any idea why he might have gone AWOL like this. I thought that if I could hear the conversation again, I might be able to find something, some reason... but already I can see that the answer isn't here. I mean look at him – he's normal; he's happy."

Daniel looked at the screen again, and saw she was right: Jack was now wearing a deeply satisfied smile as he related how he had received his anniversary gifts that morning. He concluded, wryly:

_"...Samantha, you know me too well."_

"Not well enough, apparently," Sam mumbled, mostly to herself. Then, addressing Daniel, she added: "The only thing I can think of... is that went after me."

Daniel pursed his lips before asking, "You really think he'd–"

"Be that stupid?" Sam interrupted, in spite of herself. "No. I don't. Once, maybe. While we were all together on SG-1, it's the kind of thing he'd do for any one of us. But now?" Sam shook her head. "All anybody knew back at Stargate Command was that we were out of contact. No distress signal was sent. The _Odyssey_ left immediately to look for us! To undertake a rescue mission on his own, with no leads and no back-up, makes absolutely no sense. At the very least he would've waited for the four of you to get back from your mission."

Reluctantly, Daniel replied, "I'm not sure. I think _we_ _were_ his back-up plan."

"Daniel..."

"Sam, he left us a Gate address that ultimately led us to the cargo ship on that planet."

"But he _promised_ me–"

"I know. And I agree with you; I think there's something else going on here. But if for some reason he thought he was the only one who could save you, well... maybe he broke his promise."

**End of Part 6.**


	7. Sweet Dreams and Bitter Thoughts

**Title:** Fire in the Sky**  
Part: **7/10**  
Fandom:** Stargate: SG-1  
**Pairing: **Sam/Jack  
**Genre: **Adventure, romance  
**Season:** Post-season 10; after _Continuum_

**Chapter Summary:** Jack has trouble with reality, and then with Ba'al (again); meanwhile, Cam and Teal'c encounter something unexpected.

**PART SEVEN**

Jack blinked under the harsh glare of electric lights, and frowned.

He was mad about something. He tried to remember what.

The world, like his thoughts, felt hazy around the edges. He tried to remember how he had got here.

Sam was standing in front of him, dressed in an SGC combat uniform. They were in her lab, surrounded by the intermittent flickering of various electronic units, the function of which Jack had never quite been able to figure out. Sam looked upset, and perhaps a little angry. His emotions mirrored her expression.

She was waiting for him to say something.

"You know, I thought you were supposed to be the _smart_ one."

She took a breath, squaring her jaw against the words. It was a mark of how strong she was that she moved past the comment without retort.

"Jack, you know better than anyone how important this mission is, and also how dangerous. If I don't make it back..."

He raised a finger. "No. Stop right there."

"No, Jack. You can't keep shutting it out every time I take a risk."

"You take a risk every time you get up and go to work in the morning! What am I supposed to do, Sam? Stop you from leaving the house? I've never, ever prevented you from going out on a mission, because there are more important things at stake, and because I trust you. You're one of the best officers I have ever known. They made you second-in-command of the SGC, for cryin' out loud. Frankly I think you should trust me too."

"I do trust you, Jack! I trust you too much."

"Excuse me? You trust me _too much_?"

"Yes. I've lost count of the risks you've taken for me, the rash decisions you've made to save my life–"

"Rash decisions...?"

"–and it's not that I'm ungrateful; I owe you so much. But I have to know that if I get in trouble you won't take it too far this time. I can't go out there and do my job if I'm afraid for your life as well as for the success of the mission, especially at a time like this. I step through the Gate with SG-6 in a half an hour, Jack, and if things go wrong there can be no rescue. I have to know that whatever happens, you'll be safe."

He stared at her, stony-faced. "We never leave a man behind."

"You know as well as I do, Jack," she replied, "sometimes it's the only way."

"No." He took a deliberate step closer and raised his hand to touch her face. His brain told him he could feel the softness of her skin; his fingers told him he couldn't feel anything at all. He was hit by an overwhelming sense of unreality. The haziness on the edge of his consciousness began to creep into his vision.

He ploughed on.

"I can't do it, Sam. You want me to promise never to come after you, but there's going to be one day when you cling on to the knowledge that even if everyone else gives up hope, I will never rest until you're safely back home."

Around him, the world was beginning to fade. Only Sam's face remained sharp and in focus. The words had been coming to him like a pre-composed script, and he knew that he had to finish. He forced himself to make his final stand.

"But since you're so worried for me, I can promise you this: I will never come for you alone. I will never follow you without a plan. But I will always, always make sure there's a mission to rescue you. You will never be left behind. I promise."

She gazed at him with deep relief and even deeper gratitude, and he held onto the moment as long as he could; but a loud buzzing was filling his ears, drowning her words, and the world was growing dimmer; his wife's face was fading in the blackening haze...

* * *

Jack's eyes snapped open.

He realised – far, far too late – that he had been dreaming.

Ba'al's face appeared above him, blocking out the light. Its self-satisfied smile split into a white-toothed grin.

"Sweet dreams of your lovely wife?" he asked, and there was a malicious glint in his eye. Jack was too mortified to speak.

"I'm sure she'll be comforted to know you've been thinking of her," Ba'al continued, straightening up with his hands clasped behind his back. "However, she was simply _devastated_ to learn about your foolhardy rescue attempt." He paused momentarily, watching as Jack laboured to sit up.

"Where is she?" he gasped. It seemed that every part of him was in pain. Ba'al ignored the question.

"Incidentally, I'm afraid SG-1 will not be joining us this time. My mothership recently destroyed one ha'tak vessel and chased off one of your _formidable_ Earth ships." He smirked. "Humans. Such cowards."

"They'll come back," O'Neill told him, struggling to remain upright even as he sat with his back propped against the wall. "They know where we are now."

Ba'al erupted into laughter. "General O'Neill! You always manage to amuse me. It certainly makes torturing you that little bit more entertaining. Admittedly, your jokes are not always to my taste, but then I think we both know by now, General, that our taste differs substantially in most things. Although I have to admit, your taste in women is one of the few things about you I have to admire. I don't rate her intelligence, of course, but she always was so _feisty_."

When Jack spoke, his voice was low and deadly. "_Where is she_?"

Ba'al smiled his infuriating smile and turned his back. Fleetingly, Jack thought of leaping up to attack, but knew he was too weak to stand, let alone fight. He sagged back against the wall as Ba'al replied,

"Colonel Carter is in a safe place. She will remain safe as long as you co-operate with me. I think you know by now that I do not wish to hurt her, but do not forget, O'Neill: the sarcophagus can cure all kinds of physical afflictions. It is, perhaps, her mental state that should worry you most, if you do not tell me what I wish to know."

He turned back to O'Neill with a flourish. "She already suffered once when you disobeyed me, and came to this planet unannounced. I had hoped you would be clever enough to follow my very simple instructions. Those instructions did not involve arriving in a cloaked cargo ship."

The volume of his voice had risen ever so slightly, but now he lowered it to a hiss. "Also, just in case I was unclear, 'coming alone' did not mean coming alone with the rest of your team half a day behind."

"What," Jack sneered, "you just expected me to give myself up to you? And what happened to you being dead, anyway?"

Ba'al's smile widened. "Come now. You didn't really think you'd seen the last of me, did you? After all, there were so many clones. As for what I expected of you..." Slowly, Ba'al leaned forward, the smile gone from his face. "I had thought you would at least put your wife's safety ahead of your own."

He straightened up very suddenly, raising his voice again. "Let me make your situation clear. You and Colonel Carter are alone here, and beyond rescue. But you are not powerless."

"Could've fooled me."

Ba'al chuckled. "On the contrary, O'Neill: you have information I require. And as the charming Earth saying goes, _knowledge is power._"

"Been out of the loop for a while, huh?" Jack responded with a hint of contempt. "Laying low?"

"Consolidating my position," Ba'al replied smoothly. "My contacts on Earth are limited, but you know all there is to know about the balance of power in this galaxy. As a result you have the power to choose: you can choose tell me what you know, and ensure the safe release of Colonel Carter. I will even let you see her before I let her go."

"And if I choose not to?"

"Then I will take both your knowledge and your wife from you," Ba'al replied simply. "When you first arrived, I had you implanted with a creature that has by now attached itself to the wall of your stomach. It feeds off the acid in your digestive system – a parasite."

"Relative of yours?" O'Neill asked, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the wall. All of a sudden he was feeling very ill.

"When you sleep, the parasite responds by releasing a toxin into your bloodstream. This toxin activates the sections of the brain which store memory. Surely you have noticed its effects by now."

"So what you're saying is... when I dream, I dream in memories?"

"A transmitter, which I injected beneath your skin the last time we spoke, relays the contents of your dreams. The more you dream, the more I can interface with your mind and guide it to the memories I need. So you see, either way, I will have my information."

Jack absently rubbed his temple where Ba'al had injected him. The puncture wound felt tender, and slightly swollen. Inside, he was smiling.

He had assumed that Ba'al could read his every thought, and that no idea or memory was safe from him; but now he knew that this was only true of his dreams. And if he could think freely while he was awake, that meant he could form a plan, and find some way of getting out of here.

All he had to do was stay awake.

* * *

Cam Mitchell suppressed a whoop of excitement as his F-302 entered the atmosphere of the planet below. He didn't think Teal'c would be too impressed with his all-American enthusiasm; and besides, this was a mission, not a joyride.

Nevertheless, the urgency of the mission could not detract from the thrill of plummeting vertically downwards at supersonic speeds through the swirling upper layers of a planet's atmosphere – an entirely alien planet, at that. As they emerged into clearer air, he gave the command for the fighters to gradually level off, and smiled to himself as the land below came into view. There was just no beating some things, and discovering an alien planet for the first time was one of them.

Seeing any planet from this altitude was a beguiling experience. This planet, however, was a violent clash of flourishing green and deep, ravaged craters – the likes of which Mitchell had, until now, associated only with uninhabitable planets and pockmarked moons.

"Teal'c," he said, "you see that?"

There was a contemplative pause as Teal'c considered the scene below.

"Evidence of weaponsfire, perhaps," he eventually suggested.

"Pretty big weapons," Mitchell replied, "even from orbit."

"Want us to go and check 'em out, Colonel?" asked Meyer through the radio.

"Negative, Captain," Mitchell told him. "Let's not get distracted. Commence search patterns."

"Copy that."

"Roger."

The two other fighters peeled off in opposite directions, leaving Mitchell and Teal'c to explore the landscape immediately ahead. The ground rolled out beneath them, thickly vegetated but for the enormous canyons that scarred the planet's surface. Despite his orders to the other pilots, Mitchell found that his curiosity had been kindled, and he allowed his F-302 to drop a little lower as he and Teal'c approached one of the craters.

The next thing he knew, the proximity alarm was blaring, and the jet's navigation system was crashing – Teal'c was yelling something about death gliders on the horizon at ten o'clock, and as Mitchell swerved upwards to avoid the invisible barrier he gave the order:

"Pull up! Cadstone, Meyer, pull up and retreat! Fall back to the asteroid belt!"

"The death gliders will pursue us, Colonel Mitchell," Teal'c warned.

"I know," Mitchell replied. "But by the time we reach the asteroid belt, they're gonna really wish they hadn't."

* * *

Mitchell sat back in his chair, sighing appreciatively as he sank into the comfortable leather. Some of the moves they'd pulled in the fight against the gliders had jolted their F-302 with some pretty heavy Gs – it was a relief to be back, however temporarily, in the cushioned seats of the _Hammond_'s briefing room.

Teal'c was sitting next to him, characteristically rigid, hands clasped on the table. It was clear that he considered their return to the ship a waste of time when their recon had indicated that there was definitely something worth investigating on the planet.

"The analysis confirms it," Sam said, dropping a paper file onto the briefing table as she sat down. It made a soft slapping sound on the smooth surface and skidded in Mitchell and Teal'c's direction. There was a brief, silent struggle as both Mitchell and Teal'c tugged at the file; inevitably, Teal'c won. "He's down there."

"It took a little while to clean up the data," Daniel added as he and Vala sat down opposite them. "Whatever cloaking device was protecting that crater, it wasn't short of EM interference."

"Fortunately, _I_ dug down through all the jamming signals," Vala interjected, "and underneath it all General O'Neill's subcutaneous transmitter came up pretty strong."

"Unfortunately the EM shielding makes it impossible for us to simply beam him out," Sam said. "It'll have to be a ground assault."

"Well, that's good enough for me," Mitchell said, peering at the report over Teal'c's sizeable shoulder. "Teal'c?"

"I am ready to depart immediately, Colonel Mitchell."

"Right. Jackson, Vala, you get to join us on this one."

"Not so fast, Cam," Carter responded, though she was smiling slightly at his eagerness. "We still have to find a way past the shield. In fact, it looks like all the craters you and the other pilots scanned are protected with similar force fields. Now it's possible there are access points on the ground, but if there are they're likely to be heavily guarded."

"We need an advantage," Mitchell agreed, lowering himself back down into his chair. He looked around the table. "Ideas?"

Silence descended over the team as they searched their minds for something helpful. At last, Daniel turned to Sam and said, "What about the device you've been testing? The holographic projection system?"

"Hey, that could work," Mitchell chipped in, but Sam was shaking her head. Dejected, Mitchell responded, "Why not? You used an Asgard hologram to distract Jaffa guards during a rescue mission to save Thor from Anubis – right?" At their sceptical expressions, he added: "What? I–"

"Read the report," Daniel and Vala interrupted, in unison.

"It's nowhere near operational in these conditions," Sam replied. "Our tests have already established that EM shielding throws up some major problems, not to mention the fact we're sitting behind several thousand miles of solid rock."

"The moon," Teal'c explained at Vala's confused look. Her expression cleared into a bright smile.

"Sure," she said, "but you'll get it up and running in no time, right Sam?"

"No," Sam replied helplessly. "The shielding over these craters is something I've never even seen before. Even if we could get it past the force field, chances are we'd be unable to counteract EM interference completely; I'm not sure life-like projection will even be possible in those kinds of conditions."

"But we don't necessarily need life-like, do we?" Daniel asked. "I mean, anything to cause a distraction will give us the advantage."

"Jackson's right," Mitchell nodded. "A distraction is all we need. Besides, it's not like we're trying to take the whole place down. All we need to do is get in, deactivate whatever shielding they have, and get beamed out again with General O'Neill alongside. If Chimera will help us do that, it's worth a try. Sam, get your team on it. Everyone else, get geared up and ready to go."

The three other members of SG-1 rose from their seats in ready response, but Sam caught Mitchell by the arm before he could follow them from the room.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"Sam, I can't let you. I'm sorry. We need you here, working on the Chimera device. The only way we're going to get our advantage is if you're there figuring it out."

"Cam!"

He turned to leave, only to find that his arm was still held tightly in her grip. He swung back towards her.

"I don't want to make it an order, Sam, so don't force me. You said it yourself – you're too involved. Now are you going to waste more time arguing, or are you going to let me go down there and save your husband's life?"

She was so shocked by his tone that she released his elbow, and could only watch helplessly as he strode out of the room, leaving her to wish – wholly and sincerely – that she was still a member of SG-1.

**End of Part 7.**


	8. The Vision

**Title:** Fire in the Sky**  
Part: **8/10**  
Fandom:** Stargate: SG-1  
**Pairing: **Sam/Jack  
**Genre: **Adventure, romance  
**Season:** Post-season 10; after _Continuum_

**Chapter Summary: **SG-1 embark on their rescue mission, and Jack starts seeing things.

**PART EIGHT**

Mitchell emerged from the briefing room to find Daniel waiting for him outside in the corridor. He tried to walk on by, but Daniel was quick to fall into step beside him.

"A little harsh, don't you think?"

Mitchell shot him a look. "It's how it is, Jackson; better she hear it from me than somebody else."

"I think we both know Sam's aware of the mess Jack's got us all in. You could've at least–"

"What?" Cam interrupted. "Pretended it's all gonna be okay?"

"–been kinder."

"Wow, Jackson, I would've loved to," Mitchell replied, masking a sudden sense of guilt with even harder resolve. "But the fact is, we need Sam working on the Chimera device to have any chance of this mission succeeding. I needed her to know that; I need her to focus. If that makes her mad at me, well, I'll just have to apologise when we get back."

They rounded the corner, and almost bumped into Vala and Teal'c, who had been waiting for them. It was clear they had heard the tail of the conversation when Vala demanded: "Sam's not coming? Why not?"

Cameron sighed, loudly, and stepped past her to resume walking. "We need her to figure out the Chimera device. Besides, she's too involved."

"Too involved?" Vala repeated. "Come on, Mitchell. Since when has being 'too involved' ever stopped us? In _my_ experience, having a personal interest in a mission tends to work in a woman's favour."

Daniel muttered something about not wanting to hear about Vala's experience _or_ her personal interests, but Vala barely stopped for breath: "It's all about determination, fighting for a cause. Of course she should come, it's _her_ battle! You really want to leave her on her own up here, while we go and break out General O'Neill without her?"

"Alright, enough!"

Mitchell rounded on the rest of his team, anger rising. "The decision has been made. Now please, all of you, can you just trust me on this one, and go get yourselves geared up for this _very urgent_ _mission_?"

Vala folded her arms defiantly. "No."

"What?"

"No," she repeated. "I'm going to stay here. I'm going to stay here and help Sam fix that device. And when you get back you really are going to apologise, Cameron Mitchell. Big time."

* * *

Sam didn't bother to wait for SG-1's departure; she hadn't the patience, not now, not after Cam's treatment of her – and besides, there wasn't the time. He had been right about that.

Nevertheless she was finding it hard to shake the effects of his words, mainly because she knew just how right he had been – not just about their lack of time, but about everything. She hated it. She hated feeling helpless to help, powerless to save the one man she should be going to the ends of the world to save, even if that world happened to be several million light years away from home.

_Especially_ if.

She was approaching the Research lab at speed, striding forward in anger at Mitchell, at Jack, at herself, throat tight with fear and frustration, with no plans of stopping; only plans of moving, always moving until this was done, until Jack was safe – and yet when the doors slid open in front of her, she stopped dead in her tracks.

She had been ready to burst in with orders, and a scathing response to the research team's inevitable protests that she was demanding the impossible; but now she found that someone else was doing it all for her.

"–better listen up!" she heard Vala exclaim. There was an edge to the other woman's tone which even Sam had barely heard from her before; it was authoritative and, from the startled expression on the faces of the Chimera research team, more than a little frightening.

"We have half an hour to get this thing working," Vala continued. "Half an hour to get it operational through several thousand miles of rock and some pretty advanced EM shielding, and yes, I know you're going to tell me it's impossible, laws of physics, blah blah, well _I'm not interested_, and neither is Colonel Carter. We have to make this mission a success, and the Chimera device _is_ going to make that happen."

"But–" someone tried.

"The next person to say 'but' in this room I will personally hand over to Teal'c when he gets back!" Vala yelled, drowning out the sound of the protest. She found the source of the interruption and fixed the unfortunate scientist in her terrifying gaze. "And then you can explain to a _very angry Jaffa_ why you felt it necessary to delay our progress – but not before I deal with you myself first."

She glared around the rest of the room. "Half an hour! Get moving!"

A few of the scientists sent a desperate look in Sam's direction, but they found no respite in her uncharacteristically hard expression. When the whole team had scurried off to their various tasks, Vala turned round with an enormous smile on her face.

"Motivating people is _fun_," she enthused, to Sam's grudging amusement.

"I appreciate you doing that, Vala," she said, allowing her expression to soften. "But... what are you doing here? Colonel Mitchell..."

"Mitchell doesn't know what he's talking about," Vala interrupted, with an impressive amount of contempt. "I, of course, know _exactly_ what I'm talking about, but as he refused to listen I decided to stay and help with the Chimera device – what with my extensive experience of alien technologies and all."

Sam felt the anger draining away as quickly as it had come. "Vala... I don't know what to say. Thank you."

Vala waved a dismissive hand. "Don't thank me now. Thank me later, when there's time, and opportunity for ice cream." Her eyes glittered with mischief, determination, and the sheer audacity of her indomitable self-confidence. "Let's not keep General O'Neill waiting."

* * *

Jack O'Neill was waiting. He was waiting for some ingenious idea, some streak of inspiration on how to escape – or, failing that, an actual rescue.

By the way things were going, he thought, he could really do with that rescue.

He'd even put the rescue plan in place before he left. You couldn't argue with that for forward-thinking; hadn't Sam been telling him lately to think about the consequences of his decisions? Well, he'd listened. It wasn't his fault Mitchell and the rest of SG-1 were clearly having an attack of stupid.

He couldn't help thinking: _If Sam was up there, she'd know what to do._

He grimaced. Ba'al had captured Sam because of _him_ – to get to him, to torture him. This wasn't about information. Ba'al had enough bad guy experience and enough intergalactic contacts to get whatever information he needed, although perhaps he thought gleaning the information he was looking for from Jack's subconscious would be killing two birds with one stone. But the truth was that the whole thing was more personal than that. And in the darkness of Jack's innermost thoughts, he doubted that Ba'al would ever let Sam go, even if Jack spilled all of Earth's secrets to save her.

But he had to hope.

Something moved in the corner of his eye. He jerked his head around to look, only to curse angrily when he wrenched his neck. He looked across to the corner of the cell, but was nothing there. He was alone.

* * *

"Colonel, will you please ask Miss Mal Doran _not_ to walk in front of the projection system?"

The plea came from an exasperated scientist who was in charge of the team responsible for developing the Chimera device. Her name was Dr. Cohen, and despite her generally patient disposition (she was, after all, the type of scientist who could sit at a desk for hours analysing a single set of results) she was growing increasingly frustrated with Vala's complete lack of lab etiquette.

"It's in the middle of the room!" Vala justified. "If I want to get from _there_ to _there_, why should I go all the way around the outside when it's quicker to walk straight through? We're on the clock here, lady!"

"That's _doctor_, if you don't mind," Cohen replied, bristling.

"Vala," Carter called, without looking up from the delicate task of adjusting the elements of a non-functioning circuit board. "You can't walk across Chimera's field of vision – you'll distort the readings."

"What readings?" Vala muttered, sending a reproachful glance back at the three camera-like objects on tripods in the centre of the room. They were arranged in a triangle, cameras facing inward to provide a 3D rendering of the image being projected – at least, the image that _would_ be projected, if they could just get the signal through the electromagnetic jamming on the planet below. Rebelliously, she stuck out a hand and waggled her fingers in front of the device.

"There it is again!" muttered a mystified voice from across the room. Vala glanced back towards Sam and Dr. Cohen, but it seemed neither one had heard the puzzled exclamation that had accompanied her petty act of defiance.

"Movement," Vala murmured. "I wonder..."

She turned and added, much louder: "Sam! I have an idea!"

* * *

In his cell, a sleep-deprived O'Neill frowned.

Hadn't he just seen–?

No. Impossible.

Fingers. Not an arm, not even a hand – the blurred shape of waving fingers, fading away eerily at the edges.

He rested his head back against the wall, eyes drooping as the weight of weariness fell down upon him once again.

He was definitely losing it.

* * *

"Just watch your readings," Vala instructed Cohen haughtily. When she was sure the lead scientist was paying sufficient attention to her computer, Vala stepped into the Chimera device's field of vision.

"Nothing," Cohen snapped impatiently. "Colonel Carter, this woman is wasting our time. I suggest we have her removed from the lab immediately."

Vala sighed theatrically and stepped out of range of the device.

"Well _obviously_ I wasn't expecting anything to happen _that_ time," Vala told her. "I wanted you to have a base-line reading. Now just watch."

"Vala," Carter began as Vala set off at a brisk walk, "I don't think–"

Vala passed in front of Chimera's cameras and several computers bleeped. Sam fell silent, staring at the read-out on Cohen's laptop.

"Again," she muttered, gesturing. "Vala, do it again."

Vala obeyed, smiling smugly.

"Same result," Cohen conceded, to the obvious surprise of the rest of her team, "but we should do some more tests – at least find out why..."

"Does it matter?" Vala asked, arriving beside them. "If movement is the key, we should _use_ it, not sit around talking about it. Let's think about the important thing: how do we get enough movement without running back and forth all the time?"

The various members of Cohen's research team didn't look convinced by this brushing aside of scientific explanation, but Vala figured Sam would try anything at this point. She wasn't wrong.

"It's a lead," Carter told the group firmly, "and we're going to make it work. Dr. Cohen, I want practical solutions to introducing movement into Chimera's optic field. See if artificial manipulation of the projection has the same effect – start with high frequency oscillation of the image. It's possible that a projection transmitting high-intensity variants of the same image is filtering through the shield because of the frequency instability."

"Yes, ma'am," said Cohen, who knew an order when she heard one.

Vala turned back to Sam. "I hate to put a damper on my own genius idea," she said, "but won't projecting a fast-moving image like that mean it'll just look like a flickering blur on the other end?"

Sam grinned, her eyes alight with excitement. "Not if we oscillate the image fast enough. It's like those old movie projections; move successive frames fast enough and the brain interprets them as one consistent image."

It was clear Vala didn't understand the analogy, but Sam was flying. The whole world seemed illuminated with possibility and – crucially – hope. Hope that they had solved it. Hope that she would see her husband again.

* * *

Jack opened his eyes and immediately knew he was dreaming. Sam was standing in front of him, hazy at the edges, silently speaking his name. He could still distinctly feel the hardness of the ground he was sitting on, the severe straightness of the wall behind his back, and decided he couldn't be too far gone. Strangely, his eyes still felt heavy. Perhaps he wasn't quite asleep yet; just hovering on the edge of the dream, half-hallucinating, being drawn towards the comforting realm of sleep.

It occurred to him that he had been awake so long that Ba'al was probably getting impatient. He had said he could guide Jack's dreams to get at the information he wanted; perhaps he was trying to use the part of Jack's brain that was already half-asleep to lure him into submitting completely. Who knew what weird hallucinatory effects that bug in his stomach could have?

Jack smiled grimly and shook his head. "I don't think so."

The dream-image of Sam was looking at him imploringly. He could read her lips just enough to tell she was still trying to call his name.

"I know you're not real," he told the hallucination. "But hey, I might as well start talking out loud rather than in my head. I should warn you, though: for the most part my thoughts really aren't that interesting."

He grimaced. His head was still hurting from when he'd struck it back against the wall. He closed his eyes for a moment against the pain. When he opened them again, he saw nothing but the empty cell.

* * *

Sam hurried across the lab, abandoning the Chimera device in favour of typing feverishly on her laptop. Surprised, Vala turned from scrutinising Cohen's readings.

"Sam," she called. "Where are you going? It's working."

Sam didn't look up from her adjustments to the computer program. "He can't hear me."

Vala frowned. "Who?"

"Jack."

Vala shared a glance with Cohen, who answered, "Woah – Colonel – nobody ever said anything about audio."

"Sam," Vala added, "it's great that you've found him, but we should be concentrating on the mission..."

Sam made no response. Although she had set the projection co-ordinates to match those of his subcutaneous transmitter, seeing Jack had come as a shock to her. Now, she needed him to know she was real; she needed to give him something to hang on to.

"If I can communicate the plan he might be able to help with the escape," she babbled, not sure whether she actually believed that or not. "If nothing else at least he'll be ready when it all starts happening on the ground."

"But the F-302s will be arriving in..." Vala checked the estimate on the screen. "Less than fifteen minutes. Shouldn't we figure out some strategic co-ordinates to send the projection?"

"Got it!" Sam exclaimed, and finally turned to face them. "Find those co-ordinates. Call me when the F-302s report they're almost through the asteroid field." Without waiting for a reply, she stepped back into the centre of the Chimera device.

The sounds of the lab faded slightly as the device relayed new sensory information into her brain: dim lighting, the featureless walls of a cell, the ragged face and laboured breathing of her injured husband.

"Jack?"

He opened his eyes, saw her, and gave a cynical smile.

"Welcome back," he mumbled drowsily. "Was it something I said?"

"Jack," Sam persisted gently, kneeling so that her face was level with his, "it's me. I'm here."

"No," he replied, leaning forward slightly. He raised his hand and tapped his temple. "You're _here_."

He slumped back against the wall. "You're an hallucination, or a dream, or some weird side-effect of the freaky alien parasite Ba'al stuck in my gut. Or maybe I'm finally going crazy." He gave a sarcastic smile. "Not that I don't appreciate the company."

"Ba'al?" Sam repeated. "No, Jack – Ba'al is dead. The Tok'ra executed him; we were all there."

"Are you the part of my brain that never pays attention?" Jack asked disapprovingly. "He had a sneaky back-up plan. One that worked a heck of a lot better than _my_ back-up plan..."

He trailed off, muttering darkly. His eyelids seemed to grow heavy; he leaned his head back against the wall.

"Jack, your back-up plan worked. SG-1 found the Gate address you left in the house. They got captured by a faction from the Alliance who were tracking a cargo ship _you_ stole from them. Mitchell, Teal'c and Daniel are leading the mission to rescue you as we speak. Vala and I stayed behind on the _Hammond_ to get the Chimera device working to give our guys an advantage. Jack, I'm _here_!"

His head jerked forward again at the forcefulness of her voice. He looked at her as though seeing her properly for the first time: eyes focused, gaze sharp and attentive.

"Sam?"

She closed her eyes briefly as relief washed through her. "Yes, Jack. It's me."

"But Ba'al..." He stopped, clearly confused, before giving her an indignant look.

"Hey," he objected. "This isn't right... _I_ was supposed to be rescuing _you_!"

**End of Part 8.**


End file.
